


White Butterfly

by seraphim_grace



Series: White Butterfly [1]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: BDSM, Concubinage, Edo Period, F/F, F/M, Frank discussion of sex, Kinbaku, M/M, Magical Realism, Politics, Prostitution, Samurai, Shibari, Slavery, Tattoos, Voyeurism, dub con, period au, period level violence, suggestions of sexual slavery, suggestions of shota
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:36:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 81,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/pseuds/seraphim_grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takatori Saijou was old. There were those in his household who believed that politics was a game for young men, Saijou knew that they were wrong, politics was the game the old played against the young, politics were the games men played against their wives with their concubines. Politics were all that really mattered. He had grown old and powerful, but a powerful man, he mused, sipping his sake, should never have two sons.</p><p>WIP<br/>Features cross overs of many other series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Takatori Saijou was old. There were those in his household who believed that politics was a game for young men, Saijou knew that they were wrong, politics was the game the old played against the young, politics were the games men played against their wives with their concubines. Politics were all that really mattered. He had grown old and powerful, but a powerful man, he mused, sipping his sake, should never have two sons.

Politics was a cruel whore, demanding and proud. He turned the bowl in his hands looking at the young gaijin facing him, the negotiator. He wore eyeglasses as he perused the contract in his hand. "I take it," he said calmly rescrolling the document, "that this is all in order." He batted the scroll against his thigh, he wore wide black hakama and his haori was emblazoned with a crest that Saijou knew belonged to the imperial negotiators but also maple leaves. "My employer will be satisfied," Crawford, the gaijin said patiently with a little bow of the head as he lifted his sake cup.

"I trust that you understand that although the nature of your employment is confidential that both my sons have their own ways of garnering secrets." Crawford nodded without saying a word, his eyes blinked shut slowly. "They will each try to buy you to earn my favour. It is common knowledge that I intend to play each against the other." Crawford blinked in response; he was admiring the sake, because it was rare in the imperial court, the Dairai, that one got to taste such fine wine. "There will be gifts, trust nothing from them, trust no one, not even myself, until the negotiations are complete. I trust you have brought your own men." Crawford nodded slightly, "there will likely be attempts on your life from both my sons."

"I am an imperial negotiator." Crawford said quietly, "the house that you have put aside for my use will be swept for spies and my men are loyal only to me, but I know enough from past experience to know that it will not stay that way. Do your sons know the real reason I am here?"

Saijou shook his head, "they think that the emperor has sent you to negotiate a peace between us and the Taira, I see no reason to dissuade them, but they are not foolish, arrogant and self deluded but not foolish." He poured more of the sake into the cup, "they will eventually come to the conclusion that the emperor has sent you to choose my successor from between them."

"Then they do not know your decision."

Saijou smiled, a cold slow smile that suggested a smugness to him that was not exhibited in any other way. "No, they do not, and they will not."

"The emperor is aware of Reiji's action against the Fujimiya." Crawford told him bluntly.

"It is the least of his sins," Saijou said, "all that keeps him in check is Shuiichi, it is in the best interest of the Takatori to use the two of them against each other to allow for the politics we wish to foster."

"The Fujimiya were beloved of the emperor." Crawford said quietly, "he was not best pleased to learn of Reiji's deception, he has forbidden that the Takatori enter court."

"My decision should go a long way to appeasing the emperor."

Crawford laid down the bowl of sake, half full. "It is late, my lord," he said bowing his head, "I would make sure that my men are settled in the house you have put aside for my use whilst I am in your service."

"The thing we talked about," Saijou said quietly.

"I will do my best," Crawford told him. "But there will be casualties. It is the price of such a negotiation."

"You cannot make tamago-gohan," Saijou answered without a smile, "without breaking a few eggs."

 

The house that the Takatori had given over to his use was impressive but by no means the totality of the estate. He had expected a small house but instead had received a mansion. It sprawled over the land with a small lake to the back, as he had requested, it meant a rear attack on his position was less likely and could be easily spotted, and the estate's quarry, which it was famous for, to the west. It meant it could only be approached on two sides, one of which was a series of gardens that led to a small and secluded shrine.

All in all, despite it's size, and it was much larger than he had anticipated with easily fifty rooms and a library, although it lacked books, and a kimono storage room. Despite Saijou's offer of servants he had brought his own with him from Kyoto and sat at the brazier in what became known as the fire place room, which doubled as a storage room judging by the chests around the walls, he would enjoy his time among the Takatori, his servants were loyal and they deserved time away from the capital and all its petty intrigue.  
There were advantages to being an imperial negotiator, Crawford thought with a dry smile, and this was only one of them. He wondered idly what Saijou would think when he discovered that as well as being sent to play the two sons against each other for imperial favour that he was to assassinate the old man. If nothing else it would be amusing.


	2. Chapter 2

[](http://f-lite.ru/lfp/s57.radikal.ru/i158/1404/e5/87db2cef5b48.jpg/htm) art by Fundo

Crawford quickly discovered that the house that the Takatori had given him had belonged to the Fujimiya and it kept secrets within their old belongings. The house was beautiful but it didn't make them feel welcome. Out of all the rooms he had chosen the music room for his own, and although it gave views of a lovely inner courtyard neither he nor his servants could find it. Doors didn't always lead where expected and others were locked.

The Fujimiya had been well respected and rich; in fact the emperor was very fond of the Fujimiya's daughter who served as one of the empress' handmaidens. The son, Ran, Crawford's intelligence told him, served the Takatori. Crawford assumed then that Ran did not know the true nature of his lord's responsibility in the death of his family and the theft of their honour. He wondered idly if that meant he could turn the boy against Reiji by using that information.

Like Crawford himself most of his staff were gaijin that worked for the imperial negotiators for their own reasons. The konketsu Naoe was pale and thin with a woman's blue eyes. He also had no outward sign of emotion within his slight frame.

He was a pretty boy with lithe thighs and arms, who could prettily pout on demand but was not above using everything he had to his advantage, or for the advantage of Crawford and only him. More than once the pretty boy had been summoned to the imperial bedchambers and gone without complaint. He had reported back everything that happened.

Schuldig was Doitsujin, with his temper as fiery as his hair. He was sharp featured and cruel but he loved the thrill of hunting down secrets as much as exercising his will. He was lazy but diligent in Crawford's service when it amused or suited him.

Maya and Saya were twins. There was no difference between them and both dressed to heighten the sense of unease that they cultivated. They used it to their advantage. They only ever referred to each other as Neechan and about court became referred to as the Ayakashi Aneki. Despite rumours Crawford never confirmed the true nature of their service. Often they would have a brightly coloured cord around their waists, tying them together. One was never seen without the other, but only Crawford could tell them apart.  
Crawford was among the most powerful Onmyoji in the imperial court. It was well known that his mother had been a powerful witch who had fled from her family to bear her child in the court of Qin. His golden mother had been a source of pride to the Qin emperor but had not been so highly prized that when the Japanese onmyoji had demanded the boy that they refused them.

It was only his gaijin features that suggested that he had been born at all, and his enemies often called him the Oni Onmyoji, often without a hint of humour.

He stood well over a head taller than anyone else with the exception of Schuldig and when he had learned the rumour that his father was the King of the Demons he had been sure to capitalise on it, after all his mother had been a witch.

He wasn't the primary negotiator on the emperor's staff, but he was the most feared.

Now he sat, sipping peppermint tea and reading his correspondence from the court where some of the women of the Flower and Willow World reported directly to him.

Bikiko was among the preferred courtesans of Masafumi Takatori, and the most reliable of Crawford's spies. Unlike their father, Reiji, both Hirofumi and his younger brother, Masafumi remained in court obviously waiting for the court to change its opinion of his family. It never would. At least not without Crawford's recommendation as a means to use it against them.

Masafumi became loose lipped with the slightest amount of sake and Bikiko made sure that he was plied with plenty.

Bikiko was more like Crawford than Crawford cared for, but unlike Crawford she could be manipulated.  
Her letters were succinct and poignant, written with the accuracy and wit of haiku, an art that the court adored her for.

It seemed that Masafumi had again applied to the Onmyoji for a teacher, and again had been refused, as far  
as Crawford could tell this was his major topic of conversation for all the trysts that they shared. But Bikiko's talent was for discovering more from what people said than they ever intended to reveal, and it was not like she was Crawford's only source of gossip in the capital. Although Masafumi had no news his brother Hirofumi was entirely different.

According to Bikiko, following the scandal surrounding the Fujimiya household that the Takatori, led in this case by the same Reiji that betrayed them, had taken in the Fujimiya children and that Hirofumi was to marry, or possibly had already married, the Fujimiya princess Aya-hime. But his preferences were in fact for the Fujimiya boy, Ran and had petitioned his father that he be sent to court.

This news interested Crawford because having been forced to accept the scandal surrounding the Fujimiya, although it was common knowledge that the Takatori had arranged it, due to a lack of evidence the emperor had had no choice but to disinherit the boy, thereby ridding him of any worth to Hirofumi because his bride would inherit the little that was left to the Fujimiya holdings.

That explained the reason that the Takatori had come to hold the Fujimiya lands. Hirofumi's desire for the boy, however, could be used against him.

The Takatori princess, Ouka-hime, was a spoilt and rather plain girl who, Schuldig informed him, was betrothed by order of Saijou to her cousin Mamoru, a pleasant sunny haired boy who deserved better.  
Crawford had already made a few subtle attempts to garner information from the boy's manservant, Ken, but despite the boy's privileged, and as yet undeclared, position as Saijou's heir Crawford had no use for him, yet. Nevertheless he intended to have the boy under his thumb by midsummer, just in case.

 

"Master," Maya and Saya said in perfect unison, almost as if they practised. Each was a perfect replica of the other. "The water for your bath is ready." Since there were the only people in the Fujimiya estate who were loyal to Crawford they wore plain brown linen kimono devoid of pattern. If there was someone that they felt the need to disturb then they wore shimmering white silk and let their hair down to the floor.  
He stood up. "Are we still having issues acquiring servants from the village?"

"Yes, Master," they replied.

"A crone in the village has declared," Saya explained, "that while the Fujimiya are in the shadow of the Takatori deception that no one will work in this estate." Saya took his left hand and Maya his right.  
It was Maya that continued the explanation. "She appears to be feared in the surrounding areas as some kind of witch." Crawford was listening intently but said nothing; it was common for the two to talk in unison or to swap like this.

"In fact, she gave me some herbs for Naoe's cough without being told of it." Maya was, though a stranger would be hard pressed to notice, slightly more shy than her sister, but both doted on the solemn-eyed Naoe.

"She has said," Saya continued, opening the door to the room in which the bath had been prepared, "that you will have to send to Kyoto for servants because none in the area will work for us, or the Takatori."  
Crawford sighed as they began to undress him. Unlike most men of the court he wore his hair short, both of the twins had fixed theirs in place with numerous ebony wands.

Naked Crawford stepped into the bath. It was blistering hot, the way that he preferred it, behind him Saya and Maya undid their kimono to join him. "In the morning," he said, "bring this woman to me, perhaps she will know the secrets of this house. I have no doubt that a little truth will sway her opinion."

"Yes, master." They said in unison.

"You seem tense, master." Saya said pressing her bare breasts against his shoulder, "we would be honoured to serve you." They always referred to each other in the plural.

"No," Crawford said bluntly, "I have other uses for you tonight." He told them, and then allowed them to start the process of washing him. "it is tiresome making do without servants," he groused. Maya was using a bowl to pour water over his chest as Saya rubbed him down with a perfumed cloth.

Naoe knocked and entered, kneeling just inside the door. "Master, " he said swiftly, most people would have lowered their eyes from such a display but Naoe's gaze remained solemn-eyed. "Takatori Shuiichi has arrived and is requesting your presence."

Crawford paused for only a moment. "Maya," he addressed the twin with the bowl, "Attend Lord Shuiichi, explain that I am indisposed, the chances are that he will bring some gifts with which to buy my loyalty." He lifted his hand from the water, letting the oiled drops fall back to the surface. "Accept it on my behalf, we cannot afford a refusal at this point in the game, but make light of it as if I have a hundred such, but that I am grateful nonetheless." Maya nodded and climbed from the bathtub, "also make it obvious why I am indisposed." Maya nodded then pulled out three of the wands so that her hair lost its precision in styling and loosely belted shut her kimono.

"Do you wish me to take her place, Master?" Naoe asked. He wore a child's kimono with a wrap around his chest to help assuage the cough that afflicted him each winter, his gloves were held in place with a thread to one finger, and tight hanzubon and toeless navy tabi. He had a short sword stuffed through the knot of his obi.

"No, Naoe." Crawford said quietly, "I feel I may have need of this tension."

"As you wish, Master," Naoe said quietly, he knelt down beside the bath and lifted the ladle that Maya had laid down, "have you had a vision?"

"More a sense of unease." Crawford said, "I doubt that I will feel safe releasing this unease until we have settled into this place and learned some of its secrets."

"By your will." Naoe conceded, but there was no trace of any emotion in his voice, he looked and behaved, apart from his cough, like a very pretty mannequin.

Schuldig opened the door, "Takatori is here to see you," he drawled, his eyes lingering on both Crawford and Saya's nudity, but also the image of Naoe kneeling beside the bath.

"I know," Crawford informed him dryly. "Maya is on her way to meet him."

"The other one," Schuldig corrected him, "I left him in the observatory." He went to turn away, "and don't think I'm going to join you in your bath."

"And I am glad." Crawford told him. "Saya, attend to Lord Reiji, Naoe." He stood up and steeped into the sheet that Naoe held out to dry him, "You and I can have some supper."


	3. Chapter 3

Crawford waited till the next morning to discover what coin the two brothers used to buy him. He had a light breakfast of millet soaked in green tea and a tea made of lemon and ginger with which he preferred to start his day. Maya and Saya attended him as Naoe ate little and never had breakfast, and Schuldig would not be awake until nearer noon.

"So," he said inhaling the rich spicy sweet scent of the tea. "How did they try to buy me?" He was amused by the affair. He was employed by the emperor to remain neutral throughout the negotiations but always the powerful or rich lords tried to buy his allegiance. It was how most negotiators acquired their wealth. The Taira would make such gifts in the next week or so, even if it were only in show because it was the Takatori that Crawford had been sent to investigate. The twins made an effort never to eat in front of anyone, even Crawford.

Maya started as Crawford savoured his tea. "Lord Shuiichi was a gentleman, he apologised for disturbing your bath. He brought you fine silks to be made into kimono."

"If we ever get a seamstress," Crawford groused, "I'll make sure that you get new robes from them." In that way he accepted and rejected the gift at the same time.

"Naoe has gone to the village to bring the old woman as per your order." Saya said pouring out more of the sweet white tea into Crawford's bowl.

"He also brought some fine sake," Crawford feigned interest in that, "and some fine items of pottery." Maya did not sound overwhelmed by Shuiichi's largesse. "And the pick of horses from his stables."

"All but the sake I have no use for." Crawford said dryly, "and that will be sent to Kyoto as a gift for the emperor, after all these lands are famous for their sake." He lifted the tea bowl, measuring its weight in his palm. "And Reiji, how has he tried to sway me?"

Saya flushed brightly. "The man is an insufferable ass. He spent the entire interview staring at my legs before ensuring that I had a sister. He said quite specifically that he would be pleased to see us together." She shuddered, "I know it is common knowledge that the man is an ass but I cannot say I enjoyed his company. He asked for a night with Nee-chan and I." Maya put her hand on Saya's shoulder; they both wore short indigo kimono with scarlet obi, and their hair in high tails that fell down their backs. There were many in the capital that would have paid a lot to see such a spectacle, having refused them Crawford was happy to refuse Reiji. "If it pleases you, Master." To their obvious relief he shook his head, "he left a concubine for you, the man thinks with his cock." She said, "Schuldig put him up in the doll room."  
Crawford was startled at that, "he?" He asked. "My intelligence suggested that Reiji had spoken out about the emperor's male concubines as perverted and an affront against the Buddha."

Saya shrugged. "Nevertheless he left a boy who is too pretty to be anything but. They had him dressed in layers of very beautifully embroidered silk and his obi was tied at the front." Crawford noted that, only prostitutes tied their obi at the front. "It was an elaborate knot and he hid his hands beneath it. His hair was gathered in a knot by golden wands, with a tail down his back."

"A tayu?" Crawford asked.

"If so," Maya said, "then he is from this area, there is no way that such a boy would have escaped the emperor's attention. I brought him his breakfast, which he did not eat. He is a very unusual beauty," she said, "but Master, he is very beautiful."

Crawford considered this before he spoke again. "Does he have an attendant?" He asked. Maya shook her head. "If he is to be a tayu then Reiji has insulted me by not giving me this boy's household." He was playing with the tea bowl on the table as he thought, "I will see this," he lingered on the word, tasting it, "Tayu, if Naoe has any clean robes give him one, I will see him before arranging relations with this woman." He emptied his tea in a single swallow. "Now leave me."

 

Maya had said that they tayu was beautiful but nonetheless the boy caught Crawford unaware. The boy had a simple and flawless grace, with his head bowed low. He wore rich porphyry purple, indigenous to the area, which he complimented with several several layers of cream-colored kimono underneath and a cloth of gold obi stitched with red and blue. The colours heightened the beauty of his very unusual colouring. Maya was right, the emperor would never have missed such a boy. His scarlet red hair was held in place with ivory combs, carved with roses. He was pale, like a gaijin, without the usual honey skin of the Nihonjin and most surprisingly his thin, almond shaped, eyes, were the same purple as the outer kimono flecked with the blue and red embroidered into the obi he hid behind.

His posture was not one of demure acceptance but of defeat.

"What is your name, boy?" Crawford asked quietly. Although he had been offered the boy, and at 16 he was as thin as a maiden, he had not moved since Schuldig had dragged him in. Most tayu would be working on seduction by now. The boy remained silent. "Answer me, boy." He repeated, "I think that a welt would mar that lovely skin."

"Ran," the boy's voice was that of a man, deep but breathy.

"Just Ran?" Crawford pressed.

"It doesn't matter." The boy answered.

"I didn't say it did." Crawford said, "but that is for me to decide not you. I asked you and you will answer me, you were given to me and I don't' care to be disobeyed."

For a second the boy's eyes flashed with fire and the thin lips narrowed in distaste. "No," he stopped, shy of the word.

"Say it," Crawford growled.

"No, Master." Ran almost spat the word out.

Crawford decided to forgo the boy's family name for now, it didn't take a genius to work it out after all. "What was your service for the Takatori?"

"I was a concubine, Master." Only the last word was grated out, the rest was wistful and sad. "For Lord Hirofumi, but he will not be returning from Kyoto and I was acquired after he left."

"Are you a virgin?" Crawford asked.

Ran flushed hotly, "Yes, master."

A smile slid slowly across Crawford's face. "I do not like it when people lie to me, Ran, remember that. Has Takatori sent you to kill me?"

Ran's reaction was an instinctive "No." Then he realised what he said, "I mean, no, Master."

"It is fine, Ran, I will forgive the slip." The boy was beautiful and blushed prettily. Reiji had given him a gift far in excess of what was expected, and possibly far in excess of what Reiji suspected. "I have more than one concubine in my service, you are not my first, nor will you be my last and I have simple  
rules for my property." Ran was clearly bridling under the words but he said nothing, even if the flush on his neck betrayed his rage.

"You will be attended as soon as I resolve myself of certain staffing issues, such as befits one of my concubines. I will do my best to continue your education into those arts that you practise, including masters if they are needed. In exchange, although you are free to wander the house as you will, you may not leave it. You belong exclusively to me. If you take a lover I will kill them, to remind you that you belong to me. You will make yourself available to me as and when I wish, be that for sex or company."  
The colour had faded from Ran's cheeks and throat; in fact he had turned a rather ashen grey. "Yes, master." He stammered.

"I am not a cruel master," Crawford said quietly, "now undress."

Swallowing Ran stood up and began to untie his obi. In the course of his adulthood Crawford had known many concubines, both male and female, and a fair number of prostitutes, and none had this unerring grace that Ran did. But Ran did not undress for his master. There was no show or artifice. He simply peeled away the robes to reveal the pale and embarrassed body underneath. In fact he folded his clothes as he removed them.  
He was shivering, Crawford noted, although the room was not cold.

It was obviously a boy's body, yet to thicken into manhood, slim but much taller than he expected with rounded joints. He was as pale as the ivory combs in his hair, and his cock was a nestled seahorse between his thighs in a sparse smattering of wine red hair.

Crawford gestured for the boy to turn and he did with an exhalation that might have been a whimper. The  
boy's ass was young and firm, though as thin and his hips, and a tantalising row of bumps revealed his spine. His thighs were faintly sugar dusted with fine downy soft hairs. There were duck egg blue veins in the paper-thin skin of the back of his knees.

"Let down your hair." The boy lowered his head so that his chin must have touched his breastbone but he pulled out the combs and clips. His hair was glossy and fell to his knees in soft waves. "And face me."  
The dark colour of the boy's hair flattered his skin and fell like a curtain around his thin frame, heightening the pale pink of his lips and nipples. "You can get dressed now," with a shiver Ran grabbed  
the robe and pulled it about his nakedness.

"Do I please you, Master?" the boy's voice wavered on the edge of sobbing.

"For now," Crawford said bluntly, "That is all. You may take any room except the cage room as your own."  
Ran quickly belted on the robe but continued to shiver, "by your will, Master."

 

Naoe introduced the village wise woman with a look of wild terror in his eyes. Contrary to his usual behaviour he knelt at the door with his forehead pressed almost against the mat. "Master, this is Baba." He said, "you sent for her, from the village."

Crawford excused him and Naoe almost fled he left that quickly. Baba, the village crone, stood only as tall as Crawford's chest and wore her hair in a high white topknot. She had a skirt tied around her kimono. She was wide with hands like slabs of meat. "He's a good boy," she said, "he is a credit to his parents."

"They are dead." Crawford answered, "would you care for some tea?"

"No," she answered abruptly then sat on the floor facing him with her legs crossed. "You can't talk me out of my decision, you will not have servants from the village while you work against the Fujimiya."

"Then it is in my interests to tell you that I work for the emperor who only spoke out against the Fujimiya because of the support that Saijou Takatori retains at court. It is an open secret that Reiji betrayed the Taira and blamed Fujimiya in his place." The woman's face remained set. "The Lords Takatori think that I am here to negotiate with the Taira over the assumption of the debt." Facing the woman Crawford was glad of his posture because her black eyes were cold and calculating, he suspected that she was judging him and he had the oddest desire to please her. He was reminded of the Kaasan in the Dairai who looked after a gaijin child amongst the onmyoji, she had been at the same time loving and cruel.  
"My real purpose, and I only tell you this because you so obviously despise the Takatori, is that the Taira petitioned the emperor that the Takatori be investigated. He weighed up their worth and when Saijou denounced Reiji for the action," the woman nodded, "we came to destroy them, all of them."

"What has this" She asked, "to do with me?"

"The Fujimiya were wrongly accused and without choice the emperor acted against them. I have taken Ran Fujimiya into my household," she reacted to that, "I had little choice, rather than have him as a servant I took him as my concubine, which means he will be treated in the manner which he deserves as the son of a powerful lord."

The woman understood this, "and Aya-hime?" she asked.

"She is at court, the Takatori have married her to Hirofumi, which as her guardians is their right, but she is beloved of the empress and serves as her handmaiden which means she does not see her husband. They have assured me that they will keep her distant from him."

The woman relaxed at last, "I will arrange servants for the house," she said, "but Ran is to be with me, I will attend him and I will not call you master."

"I have sent to Kyoto for a servant for him." Crawford corrected, "Ran is older and no longer needs a nursemaid, but perhaps Naoe would prefer such attentions."

"The boy has weak lungs." Baba told him, "I will watch over him, not because you have asked me," she was firm on that and Crawford was beginning to suspect that if the woman tried to be emperor the armies would have backed down from her, "but because he needs a mother and gives me the opportunity to learn if you lie to me."


	4. Chapter 4

The nature of the entire house changed almost as soon as Baba took control of it. Despite Crawford being the master of the house even he backed down from the woman. She made foul smelling unguents over the fire that made the mats smell for days. She made sure everyone, including Crawford, was in bed before she would recheck all the doors, despite the guards, and would retire herself. More than once one of the servants had opened a futon cupboard to find a teenage boy hushing them as Naoe hid from her. Crawford himself found excuses to talk to someone else or take a different path if he saw her ahead of him.

Ran kept to himself and locked himself in the doll room. He drank the tea that they gave him but consumed very little else.

On hearing, at length and with some volume, that the boy was not eating to Baba's standard, Crawford sent for the boy to be brought to his chamber with several plates of snacks, a large bowl of rice and a carafe of very hot water. Ran knelt just inside the doorway.

"I know you haven't been eating." Crawford said, standing up and taking the few steps across the mats to him. "I do not abuse what is mine," he said and tilted the pale and lovely face up to him to stare into the brittle lavender gaze. He used his other hand to cuff the boy, knocking him to the floor. Ran looked up at him but made no attempt to get up. "You belong to me." Reaching down Crawford grabbed the back of his head and pushed him towards the table, "now eat everything there."

Baba had made sure that the dishes were those Ran favoured, sweet takoyaki, refried natto, omusubi and boiled eggs with soy and pickled ginger. "Will you share with me, Master?" Ran asked, noting the two sets of chopsticks.

"I have work to do." Crawford told him.

"As you wish," Ran said settling at the small table and lifting one pair of the ivory chopsticks, "if it will please you to watch me eat."

"Just eat." Crawford said.

Normally when a courtesan ate in front of her danna it was a show of eroticism. With Ran it was like watching a hamster. He ate with tiny bites and generous swallows of tea, bringing the omusubi to his face with both hands. Crawford found it strangely fascinating. He found himself looking up from his correspondence at the glisten of soy sauce on his lips. Even though there really was no tease to Ran's show, and Crawford had had no desire to do anything but make the boy eat so that Baba would stop nagging him, he felt a familiar thickening in his pants. He wasn't even sure where it was that the lust came from.

He originally had no thought of using Ran as anything other than a pretty bauble to show as decoration if he had guests, but the thought of the boy kneeling in front of him as he buried himself in that tight mouth fascinated him. He suddenly wanted to taste the takoyaki on the boy's tongue.

Saya knocked and opened the door. "Master," she said kneeling, "a messenger from Kyoto has arrived."

"Ran," Crawford said though his voice was thick with lust, "you're excused."

"Yes, Master," Ran said putting down his chopsticks and standing up, "I will return to my room."

"No," Crawford said suddenly, changing his mind, "you will stay here and finish your meal, I will ask Naoe to attend you until my return."

Ran sounded despondent when he answered, kneeling back down and lifting his chopsticks.

Crawford entered the corridor making sure to walk in front of Saya.

Maya was waiting on the messenger. He was a handsome man with dark curls but bright green eyes. (1) Crawford did not look happy to see him. "Kudoh," he said, "I assume you bring word from the capital."

"Crawford, my man," the man didn't sit as much as sprawl along the table in such a way that his kimono revealed most of his chest. The man was an incorrigible flirt. "It's a six day journey, let a man have some hot sake and a hotter woman." He flashed a grin at a passing servant girl who giggled and flushed at his attention. Saya had no patience for Kudoh or his flirting but Maya had been known to giggle or blush, but she always denied it afterwards.

"There is a brothel in town," Crawford answered bluntly, "with, Schuldig tells me, the prettiest boys and girls in the prefecture."

"But with the beautiful sisters in attendance on you I can't imagine that you'd have had call to check." He look around, "looks like someone's gone and fell on his feet this time," he managed to sprawl a little more, "where's my little Naoe?"

"He's attending the master's concubine." The servant girl said quietly. Crawford's dark glance chastened her. He had had no intention for Kudoh to learn of Ran.

"Oh, gone and got yourself a long term girl, eh?" Kudoh emptied a bowl of sake; "tell me, Crawford, as friends. Is she hot? I bet she's got a perfumed little well that's as sweet as honey-wine. She'd have to in order to catch a prize like you." He poured the last of the sake from the jar into his bowl.

Crawford thought of Ran: silent and beautiful, eating with his tiny bites and the jaded lothario that was sprawled across the tatami matting. "You, girl," he said to the servant that Kudoh had been charming, "go fetch Baba to introduce her to the messenger of the imperial household."

Maya and Saya both looked at each other to swallow their laughter. The girl looked confused, "but, master," she protested, Crawford's glare was steely but he said nothing. The girl bowed her head before shuffling off to find the housemistress.

"So, Crawford," Kudoh pressed, "just tell me is she worth leaving all the joys of the court for an extended stay miles past the arse end of nowhere?"

"Yes, Kudoh, I find her to be a remarkable woman."

His eyes glazed over for a moment, then he stood up, "please excuse me, Kudoh, something has come up that needs my immediate attention." He excused himself sedately. Once he closed the door behind him he took off at a run, sprinting through the great hall, past the storage room and opened the door to the veranda. He lifted Ran's robe and draped it over the railing. He only sprinted up to the gate that led from the cherry atrium to the lake. Ran was at the end of the thin pier on his knees, vomiting into the water.

When he had Seen(2) Ran running to the lake he had Seen it with an ingrown desire to protect the boy. He had assumed that Ran had either planned escape or suicide because he was not allowed to leave the confines of the house. Instead he was being violently ill. He knelt there with his face shrouded by his hair, in only his hakama.

Crawford bent down behind him and swept back his hair. It was almost unbearably soft to the touch. He ran his fingers lightly over the boy's brow. It was hot and damp to the touch. "By Ameratsu's tits." Crawford swore, then he swept the boy up in his arms, regardless of who saw him, and let his face rest against his chest.

He laid him down on his futon and lifted a cotton yukuta from where it was folded, "Ran, why didn't you tell anyone you were sick?" He asked softly.

Ran sat up and let himself be dressed in the loose cotton yukuta, "not sick," he protested.

"You're burning up," Crawford told him, "now lie down."

"Yes, Master," Ran's voice was almost a whisper it was so weak.

"Sleep. I'll watch over you." Crawford told him, brushing the hair from Ran's forehead. Ran acquiesced almost immediately, closing his eyes and his breathing levelling out. Crawford told himself it was because he was avoiding both Baba and Kudoh.

 

Ran woke briefly in a panic. There was a basin laid out beside his futon, and the faint lingering smell of peppermint in the air. Crawford sat beside a single golden candle that reflected the light off his eyeglasses. Ran blanched a little when he saw him. He had obviously been watching over him all night, sipping tea. He looked softer than Ran had ever suspected of such a powerful onmyoji. "You stayed." He said as he accepted a bowl of tea from Crawford.

"I am not a cruel master, Ran." Crawford said quietly, "It is the master's responsibility to watch over those in his care, to protect them." Ran lowered his eyes into the misty brown tea. "Baba sat with you for a while, she thinks you're just overtired and that your stomach was overstressed." Crawford sighed, "from now on you are to eat with me."

Ran mumbled assent into the tea.

"Drink it all," Crawford told him, "it will help settle your stomach and help you sleep."

"You are too kind, master." Ran told him quietly.

"It is my duty." Crawford corrected him, "now drink your tea and sleep." He sounded soft, "just as you serve me, you are no use to me unwell." He reached forward and swept back Ran's hair. "You are just blessed that I felt the need to hide from the imperial messenger. So, sleep." Putting the now empty bowl down Ran lay down facing his master and slept.

 

Schuldig sought out Crawford in the late morning. He was sat on the veranda outside the doll room thinking. Schuldig and Kudoh had obviously spent the night in each other's company because they always did and Schuldig looked as if he was suffering from over-indulgence. Between the two of them they knew every woman of questionable repute in Kyoto by name.

"So this is where you've been hiding?" Schuldig said leaning back against the rail indolently.

"Ran was ill, I sat with him." Crawford answered blithely.

"You've never given such consideration to Naoe." Schuldig told him, his entire tone was a sneer.

"Naoe has been with me since he was a baby, both Maya and Saya have never really let him out of their sight. He sleeps each night between them."

"Lucky Naoe." Schuldig said with a laugh, "You've kept that boy tucked away tighter than your fundoshi."

"He's unwell." Crawford corrected him, "and I feel no urge to share my concubine with you. Reiji presented him to me to deal with as I see fit, Schuldig, it would do you well to remember your place in my household."

"There is not much to do," Schuldig said with an exhalation that was not quite a sigh. "I'm tempted to go back to Kyoto with Yohji for the time it would waste."

"I'm not going to stop you." Crawford narrowed his gaze for a moment, Schuldig recognised the look, it meant he was thinking of something. "Actually, go to Kyoto, I need you to fetch me a male orphan between five and ten years old."

"This new meat not fresh enough for your palate?" Schuldig leered.

Crawford sneered at the joke. "I want Ran to have a whipping boy." He told him, "this new concubine is young and untrained but that does not mean I have intentions of destroying his beauty."

"Well, Crawford," Schuldig laughed, "is he really that lovely?"

"Whilst in Kyoto make sure to call in on Hikarin and remind her that it is for me to decide which information is important and she is to send me it all." He paused for a moment, "and check on the progress of Fujimiya Aya-hime." He stopped again, tapping his fingertip against his cheek. "In fact, if you get the opportunity to speak to the girl advise her that if she wants to address it to me I can make sure that her brother receives anything she sends him."

"After you've read it." Schuldig answered.

"Of course," Crawford laughed, "Not that I imagine that she will have any news that I do not get from others."

"I never expected that you had a taste for the daughters of the daimyo." Schuldig seemed inordinately amused by this.

"Our employer has asked that we destroy the Takatori for what they did to the Fujimiya, there is no room for failure so having Aya-hime on my side cannot hurt matters at this stage." Crawford told him bluntly.

"Is there anything else you want from Kyoto?" Schuldig answered, "perfumed oil for example."

"Ask Hikarin to send whatever she uses on her face to preserve her beauty." Crawford said, he was still musing.

"Worried about wrinkles now?" Schuldig laughed, "it's all that thinking, I tell you, it's dangerous for your health, you'd spend that time better between the thighs of a young boy or girl."

"For my tayu, Schuldig," Crawford corrected, "not me, and bring me whatever Monogatori are popular in court now, and something to keep Naoe amused."

Schuldig rolled his eyes, "all this for a boy you keep locked up tighter than your own balls in a room full of creepy dolls. The only time I got to see him he had such a thick veil over his face he was more goblin than boy."

"I don't want you near him." Crawford snapped then something crossed his mind for he smiled, "bring Hikarin back with you, yes Hikarin, to arrange a proper mizuage."

"You're going to auction off his virginity?" Schuldig asked, "Hell, I'll make a bid just on principle."

"No," Crawford stood up rolling his shoulders, "I can see now why those bids you make are always unsuccessful. Mizuage is the first time, a million patrons come after but there is only one mizuage, only one first time, with all the ritual that entails. When I leave this place the chances are that I will have him join the others I have been given if I don't sell him or give him away just because I can. But I will enjoy a proper mizuage." His smile was carnivorous and Schuldig grinned back.

"And in he meantime do you mean you're going to?" He made an obscene gesture with his hand.

Crawford smiled but said nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

Life quickly settled into an easy pace in the old Fujimiya estate. At morning and evening Crawford dined with his nervous concubine but rarely even tried to engage him in conversation. He took the opportunity to check on his correspondence and what word the servants brought him from the village. He knew better than to undermine such an important resource of information, even if he knew that they were reporting as intently to the Takatori. It was inevitable, and not even Baba's stern gaze could stop the flood of information that left the house. Crawford understood and had expected it; it just meant that he was needed to be more careful than he had been before.

But just as Crawford said little to his concubine, Ran said little to him; mostly it was a request to pass the soy sauce or an offer of more tea to be poured.

Crawford decided he liked it that way, most of the concubines he had had over the years were demanding of his attention, doing their best to be the focus of his day. Ran ate with him because he had been told to. It was all he did. There were no attempts at seduction from the boy, for which Crawford was grateful. He had other things in mind for Ran's first time than simply tumbling him over the breakfast table.

It added to the anticipation and after all, they said hunger was the best sauce.

However it did little for his tension.

 

Throughout the day Ran managed to vanish three or four times, often for hours at a time, more than once a thorough investigation of both the house and the grounds had revealed nothing, and when Ran had been found, he was back in his room reading and looking for all the world as if nothing had happened, Perhaps, Crawford thought to himself, to Ran, nothing had.

There were other mysteries about the boy, for no reason that Crawford could see the smell of violets lingered in his hair and about his person. Despite that Crawford had given him leave to dress how he liked he still, as a punishment perhaps, wore the elaborate and heavy layers of silk kimono and the obi so thick with gold thread that it jingled like armour. It was clear to all his servants, who then passed the gossip amongst the estate, that he used his juni hitoe to hide behind. The presence of a tayu, even Ran, in the house meant that the house was full of gossip.

Ran, for the most part, despite his unwitting celebrity, kept to himself in his room.

Crawford was not the kind of man to happily sit and watch the cherry blossoms fall. He was quite bored. The house's intrigues were mostly petty and Baba stopped them from being harmful to his household. Despite Naoe's almost constant complaints about the concoction of herbs and goose fat that Baba had coated him with, his chest was much clearer so Crawford saw no reason to contradict her.

Baba ran the house with such military precision that Crawford had absolutely every intention of taking her to Kyoto with him. If she could run his city house half as well as this estate then he would be the envy of the entire capital. He hoped that when Schuldig returned from Kyoto he had the sense to bring a few of the usual maids with him.

In the futon cupboard in the library, a room he used primarily as his study- was a go board with two polished bowls of stones. Perhaps, Crawford thought to himself, Ran could play. It was a way to pass the time. Schuldig could play, and Naoe played badly but if it came to it he could teach his concubine.

With both Saya and Maya involved in attending Saijou to gather information for their cause he sent Naoe to fetch Ran.

Ran, like a woman, knelt at the door waiting to be admitted entrance as Crawford set out the go board on the low table. Crawford acknowledged him with a look. "I am bored, Ran" he said simply, "can you play?"

"Yes, master." He said in his soft, shy voice, "I play."

"Then perhaps you will offer me more challenge than Naoe who has never really advanced beyond thirty kyu." Ran nodded as he settled himself in front of the table, but he said nothing. "Would you like a handicap?" Crawford offered giving Ran the advantage in the game.

"If it would please you, master." Ran answered calmly, a maid entered with a tray of tea and sweet gelatine squares covered in rice powder on a lacquered tray.

"Would you like me to pour, master?" The maid asked bowing in such a way that she revealed a rather scandalous amount of nape. Crawford shooed her away.

Holding his sleeve carefully between thumb and forefinger, in a gesture that was clumsy enough to have been copied from a female relative, possibly his mother, he poured the tea. Once practised it would be a graceful, beautiful and possibly even sexy gesture, but for now it was endearing because of it. For all the meticulous detail in his appearance such tiny errors completed the picture as well as his slightly yellowed tabi.

He laid down five black stones on five of the star positions on the board. Crawford noted the detail and the way it was only the tips of his index and middle finger that held the stone, and competently. He could have taken nine stones so Crawford, noting he had taken a weaker handicap, played his first stone carefully.

 

Crawford became amazed at how quickly the day passed as he played go with Ran. The boy was mostly silent but occasionally made quiet asides, most of which were darkly funny. He kept him plied with tea and then noodles when Baba brought them supper. He was diligent to his master, but not to the extent of letting him win. Not only was the game hard fought but Ran had actually beaten him by six moku even before they counted off the dead stones.

The thing that truly surprised Crawford was that he enjoyed the boy's company, the game had been the best challenge that he had had in months, even with Ran's handicap. Despite being sixteen, and not much older than Naoe, he had potential other than his raw beauty. A beauty that he probably wouldn't mature into until his mid thirties, a age when other tayu were prized for their wit and not their faded looks. The Takatori really had no idea exactly what they had thrown away. In truth such a gift would be better suited to the emperor, but Reiji had no sense of male beauty and it was said that only a fool threw away diamonds thinking them grit. Ran was a daimyo's son, disinherited, but educated to a high degree with an alien beauty that did not come from his house. As he sat toying with his tea bowl, fingering the delicate ridges on the porcelain Crawford thanked Reiji for a gift he truly didn't know the worth of, because Ran would make a fine companion. If he had have been a girl, even with no dowry, Ran would have made a fine wife.

He decided it would be politic to return Ran to his chambers before he took advantage of him prior to his mizuage. He would be a good companion but his beauty would be best served by sprawling it across a futon. Hikarin would soon arrive from Kyoto. He could wait. Both Maya and Saya would return from Saijou's house soon enough. They would release his tension for now. They were always more than pleased to help him with that.

 

Lacking a trained lady's maid Baba always took the opportunity to brush out Ran's hair before bed. As the boy had never had a crowning ceremony his hair had never been cut and hung to his waist, Baba considered it the joy of her declining years to brush it through with water in which she kept the dried petals of violets. That done, a task which kept his hair clean and sweet smelling, she would braid it up for the night in the same loose plait she used on her own hair. Then with a whispered admonition to dream sweet dreams she tucked him into his futon, the way that she always had, then turned her attentions to Naoe who did not concede them so gently.

Ran lay that night in the doll room, surrounded by porcelain yujo and princesses, and listened to the pleasured grunts in the next room of Crawford and his twin servants.

He did not sleep that night at all.

 

Morning found him silent at Crawford's table as they shared a light breakfast. He lowered his eyes at Crawford's attempts at conversation rather than outright ignoring him. He simply wore nagajubon and light hakama. Crawford decided that he simply hadn't slept well and conceded his concubine a distemper and let it pass.

With his left over rice Ran fashioned himself some basic nigiri and wrapped them in a sash he had tucked in his collar. That, at least, piqued Crawford's interest. "Why are you saving the rice? If you are hungry later you can ask for more. I'm sure Baba will indulge you, you are a growing boy after all."

"It is not that, master." Ran said softly, "I was going to make offerings to my parents." Crawford had nothing to say to that. "It was my intention to spend the day in the burial room praying master, honouring my ancestors, if it pleases you, master."

Although Crawford had hoped he might have spent more time with Ran playing go he would not deny the boy his grief. Ran belonged to him, but he was not a cruel master, no matter what they said in Kyoto.

 

Crawford looked up from Bikiko's latest letter looking for hidden messages when Saya opened the door. It was unusual to see her without her sister but she looked concerned over something else. "Master," she said with a low bow of her head, her tail of hair lashing about her shoulders. "My tanto is gone, I know it is not like me but I cannot find it, did I leave it here?"

Crawford looked at her for a minute and then clearly said "Ran," but whether it was an admonition or an epiphany Saya couldn't tell. He ran past her through the corridor and the main hall to get to the burial chamber.

Ran knelt before the urns and candles with his forehead pressed to the highly polished wooden floor. He was sobbing. The tanto was lying away from him on the floor. Although Saya lingered behind her master she was shocked speechless. Crawford stepped over him and rolled the boy unto his back with his foot. Across his stomach were several long thin cuts where he had attempted, and failed, seppuku. Crawford kicked him in the ribs, "You belong to me," he snarled, kicking him again, "only I decide if you live or die."

"I am no use to you." Ran screamed back, "I'd be better off dead."

Crawford took Ran's wrist and roughly pulled him into a sitting position with a wrench. "I get to make that decision," he separated the little finger on Ran's left hand and snapped it between his thumb and index finger. "If I keep you as a decoration it is my choice," Crawford snapped the ring finger. "Mine to cherish, to protect and love." Crawford cuffed Ran across the face, "only I get to kill you."

"Then do it," Ran snarled through his tears, baring his throat to his master like an animal.

Crawford took Ran's long hair in his fist, and then patted his hand about his waist for his own long knife, baring the blade he severed Ran's hair away at the nape, letting the boy fall to the floor. "Mine," Crawford told him, "if I want to send you to work the vilest brothel in Edo I will."

"Then do it," Ran snarled back from the floor, "at least there I will have a purpose."

Crawford turned to Saya, who had never seen Crawford behave like this, "Fetch his beloved Ba-chan, let her see the boy's idiocy and pride."

 

Ran could withstand everything except the weight of Baba's love. Crawford threw him into the doll room by the back of the neck and then backed down from Baba's glare. She alternated between clucking over Ran's injuries and punishing him over getting them in the first place. She wavered between shouting and crying. She slathered honey over the cuts, witch hazel on the bruises and strapped the broken fingers. She tidied up the cut of his hair with a pair of small shears that hung from her obi. She pressed a foul smelling tea into his hands and then left him sleeping before she turned her attention to his master.

Crawford waited for the storm against the rail outside the doll room. When she found him she looked tired. "I have given him something to help him sleep." She told him.

"Is there a reason for this outburst?" Crawford asked, perhaps such madness was the reason that the Takatori had given him away.

"Yes," Baba told him, "he's confused and grieving and lonely, it just got too much for him." She looked back at the heavy wooden door that separated her from him. "You do know that he chose the doll room as his own because it is beside the room you have chosen." Crawford blinked in shock, he had not known that. "You have a concubine that you use for no purpose, he's lost his parents and his sister, and Reiji kept him as a bribe for Hirofumi's good behaviour, then he was given to you, a master who blows hot and cold with him." She stopped for a moment, "why spend your days with him if you spend your nights with the twins?" Crawford balked at Baba's tone, he knew if it was anyone else speaking to him like that he would have her executed but Baba only told the truth. "Where he can hear everything."

"I am arranging mizuage." Crawford stuttered, "I have sent to Kyoto for one of the premier yujo to train him, I," he stopped at Baba's patronising glance.

"But you told no one, not even Ran. You spent yesterday lavishing him with attention then bedded the twins where he could hear."

Crawford found himself apologising to the old woman, caught in the desperate desire to please her. "I didn't know," he protested.

Baba disdained the apology. "A great onmyoji undone by the architecture of his own house." She said, "Ran is the son of a daimyo, educated and skilled, and he could be a great ally or a very dangerous enemy. He is sixteen years old," she iterated that fact carefully, "yet to grow into his strengths. You own him. He is your concubine. It's not my place to judge such a powerful onmyoji, but it is an idiot that throws diamonds before his enemy thinking them grit." She stopped, smoothing down a wisp of white hair that escaped her topknot. "He will sleep the rest of the day and the night. Tell him, Crawford, the gifts you bring him, give him a place or you will lose him."

Crawford couldn't meet the old woman's gaze. Naoe believed that she could glare through steel and Crawford wasn't prepared to contradict him on the fact. "The Okaasan of the inn in town has several chin dogs," he said, "I am led to believe that they have whelped, might he like such a gift?"

"Ask him yourself," Baba told him, "I'll be off, this house doesn't run itself you know."

"Baba," he called out to her back, "if you see Naoe will you ask him to watch over Ran tonight."

"By your will, master." She said although to Crawford it sounded sarcastic.


	6. Chapter 6

Ran did not share his breakfast with Crawford the next morning as Crawford took the opportunity to acquire some things for himself. He returned by late morning and asked Ran to join him in the music room. Unlike the rest of the house the music room, on the first floor, was almost completely enclosed off the observatory. It had no windows, and contained many wooden tansu. Ran knelt on a cushion, he only wearing only a light yukuta and hakama pants.   
  
Baba had tied up the cut of his hair so that it was almost elegant, leaving two long bangs to frame his face but shortened at the front to cover his eyes. He looked older.  
  
Next to Crawford was a calligrapher. His eyes were avaricious beads, and he was loosely dressed, revealing a bird thin rib cage. He had his tools in front of him. “Is this the boy?” He asked.   
  
Crawford grunted agreement. He was drinking in the sight of Ran like this, totally subservient and very much afraid.   
  
“And this is the lettering?” the calligrapher asked.  
  
Crawford nodded. “I would like to watch.” He said calmly.  
  
“By your will,” in front of him he had a small lacquered box which he opened.   
  
“Ran,” Crawford said, “remove your yukuta and sit here, facing the wall.” Ran did as he was told. He could not see what was happening. He could hear the sound of stone grating and then the sound of liquid being poured into a stone dish, then other sounds he could not recognise.  
  
The calligrapher’s hands were cold on his head when they arranged him, then there was the cool cold swipe of a badger hair brush on the back of his neck, down to the well between his shoulder blades. “Are you sure of the design?” The calligrapher asked.  
  
Crawford agreed.  
  
It was torture, Ran thought, as the tiny needles pierced the skin, embossing him with the design. He had seen horimono done before. He knew what was happening. It was Crawford’s right, he supposed. There was a bamboo wand to which several sharp slivers of metal had been tied. This was struck with a second wand to slightly pierce the skin and push the ink inside. It was a slow and laborious process. It was also, Ran noticed, slightly short of painful. It was like being bitten by mosquitoes but being unable to strike at them.  
  
“If you cannot sit still.” The calligrapher said, “I will have you tied.”  
  
“Sumimasen.” Ran said and tried his best to remain still, but that in itself was torturous.   
  
“You were right, Crawford-san,” the calligrapher said without pausing in his work, “it is the right shade for the boy.”  
  
“It is the colour of his eyes,” Crawford answered and Ran knew then the colour of the tattoo they were impressing on him.  
  
After an interminable age the calligrapher was done and rubbed the stinging flesh with foul smelling grease and then pressed a square of cloth to it. “And the payment we agreed, Crawford-san?”  
  
“Meet Baba-san downstairs.” Crawford said, “She will see that you get what you deserve.” He turned his attention to his concubine, “attend me, Ran, I understand there is some misunderstanding between us, I would resolve it.” Ran pulled on the yukuta, hissing as it touched the fresh ink on his neck.  
  
He walked slightly behind Crawford down the stairs to the central corridor and then through the burial room to the veranda and stepped down to the cherry orchard. “Master,” Ran protested, “you said I should not leave the house.”  
  
Crawford’s smile was indulgent, “and so you shall not, except by my side. There may be a time when I will take you out to places and I can not do that if you cannot leave my house.” He held out his hand and warily Ran took it, slipped on the shoes on the steps and unto the grass amongst the trees. “I will not hurt you, Ran,” Crawford murmured, Ran only looked at the two broken fingers on his hand, Crawford noticed the gesture. “Except when you make me.” He stopped, “Baba told me to talk to you, she said you were unsure of your place. I would solve that issue for you. But,” he stopped and looked around, “these walls have ears.”  
  
He led him around the lake to a quiet cove far from the boathouse. It was a place Ran had played as a child but he did not tell his master that. It was sheltered from prying eyes by a large willow tree. “I have sent to Kyoto for a yujo to train you, her name is Hikarin.” Crawford blurted out, “I,” he stopped, he didn’t know why being around Ran robbed him of his precious control, but he did. “I was going to arrange Mizuage.”   
  
“Oh,” was all that Ran said.  
  
“Do you wish it?” Crawford asked, “Hikarin will train you, that you receive such training is inevitable, and beyond both of our control.” He reached out and touched Ran’s cheeks and the dark purple bruising on his face, “but mizuage belongs to you, I was not going to auction you off, just to give you what every Tayu has ever received, a first time all his or her own.”  
  
“By your will, master.” Ran said.  
  
“Ran,” Crawford snapped, losing his temper with the boy he knew wasn’t as docile as he looked. “There is little I can give you choices in, do you want this?”  
  
“Does it matter?” Ran asked, his eyes finally showing a spark of his personality that was obviously buried under a plethora of disdain and duty.  
  
“I suppose not.” Crawford answered. “I just don’t want to be a cruel master.”  
  
Ran raised his hand, “you are cruel in ways you do not know, I am your servant, let me serve you.”   
  
Crawford raised his hand in a command, “no,” he said, “not here, not for your first time.” He was adamant about that. “Tell me about your parents.”  
  
Ran lowered his head but answered him regardless.  
  
  
Crawford was sat in the fire room when the bundle of blonde energy came bursting in shouting “Ran-nii” at the top of his lungs. This, Crawford decided, had to be Takatori Mamoru. He had been told the boy was genki but he had had no idea it was this bad. Beside him stood a boy more of an age with Ran with mud brown hair and colour changing eyes. “Ran-nii.”  
  
It was Naoe who stood up to welcome the child. “Who are you? What do you want?”  
  
The boy held out a small reed basket. “I’m here to see Ran-nii.” The boy said proudly, he was slightly older than Naoe but not as mature, he was obviously spoiled.  
  
Baba came in, “Ouji-sama,” she said with a slight incline of the head, but there was none of the affection she showered both Ran and Naoe with. “Ken-san.”   
  
“Ba-chan.” The boy enthused literally launching himself across the room. Baba stepped back rather politely, Crawford thought, as though she might get something on her kimono. “I can to see Ran-nii but he’s not here.”  
  
“No, ouji-sama.” Baba said in the tone of deference Crawford could never get out of her, “he’s sleeping, he had a long night and we decided it would be best to let him rest. Can I pass on a message?”  
  
The child beamed, his large blue eyes almost glowing in the firelight. “Mama asked me to bring this for him, can you give it to him?” Baba took the basket with another low bow then swept away.  
  
“What was it?” Naoe asked, indignant at this slightly older boy who acted so much younger.  
  
“A puppy, Mama said that Okaasan’s bitch had[<-duplicate?] had puppies and that she had heard that Ran was to have one and she had three of them, there were only four, so she thought it was okay to give Ran-nii one. I would have liked to give it to him myself but if he’s sleeping.” He grinned then as Naoe tried hard to follow the stream of words, “I’m Mamoru but everyone calls me Omi, and this is Ken,” he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “he’s to stop me being kidnapped, who are you?”  
  
“Naoe,” he answered, “Nagi Naoe.”  
  
“Mama-Birman’s cat has just had kittens, wanna come see?” Omi asked excitedly. Naoe looked at Crawford to be forbidden, but Crawford nodded so Naoe just agreed and went with him. “They’re fudge coloured apart from one and he’s a got a black face and Mama says that I can have one, we’ll go and see the kittens and I can introduce you to Mama-Birman and Mama and maybe even Papa if he’s there, but Papa has a lot of business.” He turned his attention to Crawford, “you must be Crawford-sama.” He said brightly, “I am pleased to meet you.” He bowed clumsily. “And be nice to Ran-nii, he’s not as strong as he wants you to think he is, and Shion wants to know when he can restart Ran’s kendo lessons.”   
  
“Ran takes kendo?” Crawford asked, he did not know that.  
  
“Uh huh, he’s really good, Shion thinks he might be better than him with practise.” Omi babbled.  
  
“Omi,” Ken said from the doorway, “I’m sure we’ve taken up enough of the gentleman’s time.” It was a chide.  
  
“Sorry,” Omi almost shouted the word, bowed again and then taking a rather unwilling Naoe by the hand and almost dragging him towards the genkan.  
  
Crawford just shook his head and returned his attention to the map of the house he was trying to work out.  
  
  
Ran was sat on the veranda and in truth had heard Omi but having no desire to explain his bruises or broken fingers to the boy had begged off and Baba, strangely, had indulged him in that.  
  
She came out and nestled her old bones beside him. “The Takatori are sending you gifts.” She said, “your master said you might like a puppy, Manx-sama heard of it and sent you this.” She thrust the basket she had taken from Omi at him.   
  
Ran pulled back the cloth to reveal a small sleeping chin puppy. It had black and white markings and was nosing at the flannel cloth it was sleeping on. Ran lifted the dog from the basket turning it over, “it’s a bitch,” he said and watched as the tiny bundle wriggled then snuggled into his hand. “I’ll call her Kimi.” He said sadly and then nuzzled the puppy with his nose.  
  
“She will be spoiled.” Baba said with a slight laugh. Ran offered her a meek smile before he tucked the puppy into the line of his yukuta to rest in the fold above his obi.  
  
  
Hikarin was among the most prized of Kyoto’s Yujo but she had never received the rank of Tayu. It was a bone of contention that her sister Bikiko had. The Tayu were the most honoured, the most praised, the most expensive, and with her naturally blonde hair and fair complexion Hikarin believed she was worthy of the position. She had entertained the emperor. But Hikarin was not as clever as her sister and it was this that separated them.   
  
Crawford had chosen her to train Ran for several reasons, including that it was unlikely she would be missed in Kyoto the way her sister would have been.  
  
She was beautiful; with all the artifice a portable tansu of concoctions and creams could make her.  
  
She walked into the Fujimiya house with her head held high under her veil and made a beeline for Crawford who neatly side stepped her advance. “Hikarin,” he said with a slight bow of the head, “you came.”  
  
“You summoned, my lord.” She said in a breathy voice. “I did not realise the journey was so long or I might be fresher upon my arrival.”  
  
“We’d have been here days ago,” Schuldig sniped from behind her, “if she would rise before noon.”   
  
“And then,” Yohji added from his side, “there is the three hours preparation, even on a journey she has to be fully made up.”  
  
“It is a lady’s duty to look her best at all times.” Hikarin answered sharply.  
  
She twisted her fingers in the folds of Crawford’s kimono. “I missed you about town, my lord.” She said softly, “did you miss me?”  
  
Like most of the women of fashion Hikarin wore heavy layers of fabric that were designed to show off the colour of her skin and hair, and although she wore a veil over her face it was almost completely transparent and showed how she had whitened her skin and blackened her teeth with iron filings so her mouth was a black hole.  
  
“Like the plague.” Schuldig said behind her. Yohji snickered at the joke.  
  
Hikarin flicked out her fan in annoyance like a weapon. She was obviously trying to charm Crawford who had never had any interest in her, at least not like that. Hikarin, however, was a master of her art, with her brushes and paints she turned a girl who was in fact rather plain, although blessed with grey eyes and blonde hair, and Crawford would like to see how she would paint Ran.  
  
Though her sister was brilliant Hikarin was a dullard.  
  
“Schuldig, set Hikarin up in the cage room, it has the best views over the lake.” Crawford said quietly disengaging himself from her wandering fingers, The room also had the advantage of being on the complete opposite side of the house from him. It would mean she would have to cross the entire house to get to the room he had chosen as his own. “It also has the nicest of the furniture and is away from the bustle of the main house. It will suit you,” he turned his attention to the yujo in front of him, “no one will disturb your obviously important beauty sleep. You can meet your charge after breakfast tomorrow.”  
  
Hikarin scowled but accepted the information with brittle grace. She was obviously not happy about it but she could not countermand him, especially in front of his men.   
  
  
Crawford met with Ran and his new puppy at supper. Ran was feeding the tiny creature with scraps of fish and meat from his own plate and smiling as the puppy attempted to suckle his fingertips in thanks for the food.  
  
“Do you like him?” Crawford asked.  
  
“It’s a bitch,” Ran corrected, “thank you, master, for letting me keep her. I’ve called her Kimi.”  
  
Crawford kept quiet about the detail that he had to accept the gift from the Takatori to provoke a response from Reiji. “Ba-chan says I’ll spoil her.”  
  
“She’s yours to spoil.” Crawford answered calmly as Ran set the puppy on the matting; it curled up on the sprawl of his robe to sleep. Even Crawford smiled indulgently at her. Baba was right- the puppy would be spoiled.   
  
“I was lonely, master, it made me,” he paused looking for the word.  
  
“I understand.” Crawford answered. “Your tutor has arrived from Kyoto, you must mind her manner, she is better at what she does than she first appears and you must watch yourself around her, she can be spiteful.”  
  
Ran nodded, “yes, master.” He stopped, sipping his tea, “master,” Crawford looked at him quizzically, Ran was not given to addressing him except to answer him. The only exception had been in his suicidal rage. “Thank you. Ba-chan made me realise just how kind to me that you were.”  
  
Crawford shrugged, “I told you,” he said putting down his chopsticks, “I am not a cruel master, except when you give me cause to be.”  
  
Ran nodded, “but thank you. You didn’t have to be so kind.”  
  
Crawford couldn’t think of an answer to that. “Ran,” he said eventually, “would you like to stay with me tonight?” Ran’s face contorted with thought. “It is your decision, though I would like it if you would.”  
  
“I don’t know, master,” Ran said scooping up his puppy. “I don’t know how. I am confused. I challenged you, Ba-chan,” he stopped. “My apologies, I am out of my depth, even Naoe knows more than I.”  
  
Crawford chuckled. “Does that make me a terrible man for finding that one of the most charming attributes about you?”  
  
“Master, I’m out of my depth.” Ran said, lowering his eyes, his attention on the puppy in his hands.  
  
“I know,” Crawford said, cupping the boy’s face gently. “That is why I am letting you walk away.”  
  
“I don’t know if I should.” Ran said quietly, holding the puppy in one palm now, it was that small and bringing it to his face. “I am lost, master.”  
  
Crawford reached forward and pulled Ran so that he was lying with his head on Crawford’s knee, stroking the boy’s hair, “I know, little one, I know.”


	7. Chapter 7

Crawford awoke to Baba bringing him in breakfast. Sometime in the night someone had draped blankets over where he knelt hunched over the figure asleep in his lap. Curled up next to Ran on the heavy linen of his culottes was the puppy that was suckling on one of his fingers. She smiled indulgently at them and did her best to be silent so as not to wake Ran, and then slipped away back out of the room. Crawford's back was stiff and sore from being in the same position all night but Ran looked peaceful, for the first time in their acquaintance, and very young, and the puppy was happily sucking. Crawford decided he didn't care. It would be all over the house in the morning that he had spent the night with his concubine, he smiled, at least it would stop some of the rumours.

 

He awoke again to find that Ran was awake and doing his best to silently serve breakfast. When he saw Crawford stirring he stopped and dropped the cup of tea he was whisking, covering himself in the hot liquid with a hiss.

Crawford smiled and with a cloth started to wipe away the hot fabric from the ruined hakama.

"I'm sorry," Ran stammered, "I,"

Crawford ignored the boy's apologies and continued to wipe at the spreading stain.

"I'm sorry," Ran continued, "I'm just."

"Embarrassed." Crawford offered the word and Ran nodded.

"I've never slept with a man before."

Crawford burst out laughing. He dropped the cloth and cupped Ran's face. "You dear sweet boy," he said fondly. "I was thinking." He continued, "it disturbs me that you call me master, you are." He stopped, "you were the son of a lord greater than I, you would have been greater than I." Ran, unintentionally perhaps, leant into the gesture of kindness. With a movement of his wrist Crawford tilted the lovely face towards him, though Ran had learned, quickly, to hide his eyes behind his fringe.

Ran's lips were like slices of fresh peach, moist and sweet and Crawford could not stop himself. "I'm going to kiss you."

Ran blinked slowly, trying to recognise the unknown word, "Kissu?" He asked sweetly.

In that moment Crawford wanted to gobble the boy up, bones and all, and knew he'd be as sweet as spun sugar. He even licked his lips, and then white teeth bit into the lower lip.

"Let me show you." Crawford said softly and leant into that mouth, pressing his own against it.

Ran jumped back like he was struck, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "No," he said firmly. "No," he repeated, "that's wrong." He stammered, "it's not kissu," he mangled the unfamiliar word, "that's seppun, that is the worst of all evils." He was licking his lips over and over again as if trying to wash away the sensation.

Crawford laughed again, actually leaning over in his hilarity.

Ran did not seem amused, "it is how the Oni swallow your soul." He explained.

"I am onmyoji." Crawford said before laughing again. He should have Seen this encounter but was rather glad that he hadn't, because it was generally quite funny.

"It's not funny," Ran said, wiping his mouth, "you, you," he stopped looking for the word, "you ecchi." He looked even more offended if that was possible.

Crawford was rocking back and forth trying to hide his laughter. "It's not," he protested, "it's just kissing," he laughed, "anyone would think I'd suggested using a lobster." For some reason this made him laugh even harder.

"I don't care to be laughed at," he stopped, "My lord." He stood up, the stain on his hakama looking less like tea and more like urine, his puppy yipping and jumping in excited circles about his feet.

It took Crawford several minutes to calm down after Ran left him. He couldn't even look at his breakfast without breaking into fits of laughter again. It was good to laugh; it had been a long time since he had. He decided he liked Ran, for more than the obvious attraction, the boy's presence calmed him, and even his affront at being laughed at had been charming. He had also heeded Crawford's order and called him "my lord", rather than master. Crawford didn't want to be the boy's master, but for now he was happy being his lord.

Crawford knocked and entered, more civility than he usually showed, at his feet he had a boy of about five or six, "hey," he said pushing the rather dirty child inside. He was wearing rags and it was clear that he hadn't been washed in some time.

"Schuldig," Crawford said, still amused by his encounter with Ran, "a new pet?" He asked though he knew perfectly well what the child was. Crawford had asked him to bring him a child of about that age and as usual he had delivered.

"This is," Schuldig stopped for a moment, "is Sena." He had obviously just chosen the name out of the air. "You wanted a whipping boy for the ghost of the Fujimiya house, here you go." He pushed the child forward. "You can keep him."

"Schuldig," Crawford said appraising the child, "did you leave him in the cart last night?"

Schuldig shrugged, "I kinda hoped it would rain." He answered. "Kid could do with a bath."

Crawford rolled his eyes. "And it didn't occur to you to bring him in and give him to Baba would have had him bathed and tucked up for the night."

"For the price of him," Schuldig mused, "he could wait in the rain a bit, I swear there wasn't a single lad of reasonable age in all of Kyoto."

"Or at least the parts you were in." Crawford added, almost under his breath.

"Look, normally the yujo are more than happy to offload male offspring." Schuldig said, "it's not my fault the Heika likes a little more boy meat than his predecessors."

"Where did you get him and how much did he cost?" He distinctly avoided looking at the child, who was only staring at the tray of food that Baba had brought him earlier.

"Gion." Schuldig said, a little too quickly for Crawford's liking. "And he cost me three bags of rice." He was obviously annoyed at that.

"A whole night with a medium priced prostitute." Crawford drawled. "Go get Baba, perhaps the boy will be useful under the layers of dirt, and," he tilted his head at the child, "lice."

Sena, as Schuldig had called him, was a skinny child that was more mud than human. His clothes were worn and well mended and it was impossible to tell the colour of his hair for the mats and knots, his eyes however were a large and lucid blue. On the whole he reminded Crawford of how Naoe had been when he had found him, malnourished and beaten. "Can you talk?" He asked the boy, the boy remained resolute and firm, his fists gathered at his sides. "Why do I think I'm the first one to speak to you since you came here." Crawford said to himself even though he was facing the boy. He knelt down in front of him. "Are you hungry?" He asked. The boy remained stoically silent. At this distance Crawford could see the lice crawling through the mass of hair on his head. He had fleas as well.

Crawford lifted the bowl of rice and handed it to the child, the child shied away.

Frowning and cursing Schuldig for an idiot, in three languages, under his breath, Crawford took a pair of the highly polished chopsticks and stuck them in the ball of sticky rice and then pushed it over to the child.

The child looked at Crawford as if wondering if the offer would be rescinded at any moment, when Crawford crossed his arms across his chest, having sat in a lotus position. At some unknown signal the child snatched the bowl and started shovelling the rice into his mouth.

Baba opened the door and strode in, careless if she disturbed anything. "Your red haired demon said you asked for me." She said, and then noticed the child on the floor. He was glaring at her, clutching the bowl of rice to his chest as if she would take it away from him. He managed to shuffle backwards away from her. "Oh," she said quietly.

"He is to be Ran's whipping boy." Crawford explained, "but Schuldig has no sense inside his red head, the boy is too young, too thin." He stood up, "nevertheless he is paid for, make him a useful addition to the household."

Baba crouched down and offered her hand to the child, who was more than half wild, "do you have a name, little one?" she said softly, the transition in her from terrifying matriarch to maternal was instant and Crawford would have given a pretty penny to explain the transition. "Look at you, now where's your Mama, do you have a mama little one?" the child's huge blue gaze wavered between fierce and longing. "How about you come with me, little one." Each time she repeated the pet name the child visibly softened, "and you can bring your rice, and we'll get you clean and all the bugs off, and then we'll get you into some warm clothes. You just come with Baa-chan." The child rested the bowl in the crook of a painfully thin elbow, "and then do you know what we'll do, we're going to put all the bugs and the creepies and the crawlies into the red headed demon's soup, and when he compliments us, and tells us it's the best soup he's ever had we'll just smile and say that's because it's made with love." In that instant Crawford could see why everyone, including Sena who was clutching her hand tightly, loved her so desperately.

"Sena," Crawford said to her back, "his name's Sena."

"Well then, Sena," she carefully said the name, "we'll get you clean and fed and we'll make that red haired demon suffer, and his black haired friend too." Crawford wanted to chuckle at the threat to Schuldig, and Yohji, because it wasn't him, but he didn't dare.

 

Hikarin met Ran in the main hall where she had decided that they would begin their lessons. She wore a heavy silk kimono and had styled her hair, which reached to the floor, up with two ivory wands. Ran was amazed because she was very beautiful and very graceful and he was grateful that she had been chosen to tutor him in these arts.

He had lost everything and all that remained was Crawford who was sometime cruel and sometimes kind. He would do his duty, he would do everything in his power to please him.

"So," she said sitting at the small table that she had ordered and pouring tea with a gesture so lovely Ran thought his heart would break seeing just that tiny expanse of smooth white forearm. "You are the tayu, hardly lovely enough for that, but it is not my place to question what your patron paid for you. Where were you trained?" She stopped handing him a bowl of tea, "of course, you must be local, do you have a sister(1)?"

"My sister is Aya." Ran answered calmly.

Hikarin paused trying to see if she could remember the girl in question. "Aya Fujimiya?" She asked and then laughed, her laugh was one full of sexual promise. "No, little brother, the woman who trained you?"

Ran paused for a moment. "I have had no tutor in the arts to which I have become dedicated." He had chosen the words carefully.

"Then who chose your name? Who would call you Orchid?" She asked, her fingers tightening on the glazed bowl of tea.

"It is," he lowered his eyes, she had not poured him a cup of tea in which to lose his gaze so he stared at his obi instead. Baba had taken Kimi from him and was attending to a child that Schuldig had acquired in Kyoto. "My parents." He said.

She laughed again, this time her laugh was scornful. "A tayu cannot go by their birth name," she said as if it was the best joke she had ever heard. "They must have a name that shows their grace, their skill, their gei, their very sense of iki." She cast her head, "I suppose in that case it falls upon me to name you, child." Her entire tone was derisive, "I know," she said with a bright and brittle smile, "I will call you Aya. It means "brightly coloured", don't you know." She put down her tea bowl, "and you will call me Aneki."


	8. Chapter 8

Following Hikarin's declaration Ran became Aya throughout the house; even Baba accepted the new name with grace and a dark look at the city yujo. Aya, as he was now, took the opportunity that Crawford presented him, for an early night and retired with a lamp and the sutras, which his mother had taught him to diligently copy as a means to relieve his tension. It did calm him.

It was nearly dawn when Kimi started circling the mat. His mother had kept dogs and he recognised the signs. "No you don't," he said lifting her and carrying her outside.

The night was crisp as summer turned to autumn. The cherry trees were beginning to bear fruit and the air was sweet. Kimi ran in circles till she found precisely the right spot of grass, although to Aya they all looked the same.

"Puppy," a voice said, crawling out from under the veranda to inspect the dog. It was a small child, one that Aya had never seen before.

"Are you meant to be here, little one?" Aya asked. The child, who was thin but looked well dressed, was startled to see him, but the pet name, which was the one that Baba used for Aya, calmed him.

The child went to climb back under the veranda. "It's alright." Aya said, "you can play with her, her name's Kimi and she likes to play." He undid the length of cord about his waist and started to dangle the loose end in front of Kimi who immediately bounded up the stairs to pounce on it. The child followed her and took the cord off Aya. "I'm Aya," he said, the unfamiliar name uncomfortable but his now.

"Sena," Baba said coming out, "that's where you are." She sounded relieved. "Do you want to come back to bed, baby?" She said crouching down.

"No," he said firmly, "puppy." Then he wrapped himself around Aya with enough force that Aya was winded.

"It's fine, Baa-chan," Aya said softly with a smile, "he can stay with me."

"He's your whipping boy," Baba said quietly.

"Then he is mine to protect." Aya said, picking them both up carefully. "Good night, Baa-chan, I'll look after him, I promise."

 

Saya and Maya's giggling was what woke Ran a few hours later. "Kawaii," they said, leaning against each other, they wore light yukuta that weren't fastened as tightly as they might have been.

"A baby with a baby." Maya said laughing.

"We should get a picture." Saya laughed, "We'll have to order a portrait painter all the way from Edo so that we could record this and in our infirm years look at it and go kawaii."

"But our master has requested that we bathe you." Maya said with a leer.

"He has plans for you before Hikarin-sama," that name was said with loathing, "deigns to rise from her futon."

Aya blushed but followed them, making sure that Sena and Kimi were happily tucked up in his own futon.

 

The bathhouse was a small wooden building just outside the main house. It had the advantage of having a fire under a metal tub, which kept the water warm to be poured into the bath itself with a pump. There was also a pump for cold water in case it was too hot. Aya stood with his hands holding together his nagajubon as the twins stripped down and climbed into the bath. "We're to bathe you," Saya said with a smile and a leer.

"Master's orders." Maya added, splashing Aya so that the thin cotton became see-through anyway.

"We're to teach you." Saya's voice was singsong as she grabbed Aya's hand and pulled him to the water.

"So you can bathe the master." Ran's blush became incandescent, but he peeled off his robe and stepped into the water.

"As pale as a new camellia." Maya joked, "Now sit." And she pushed him into the water so that he stumbled.

 

Aya attended his master for breakfast as he always did. The twins had bathed him rather thoroughly, their hands going into places he didn't put his own, with the exclamation that it was for the master but their giggles betrayed them.

So when he attended Crawford he was caught in a maelstrom of shame and duty. Crawford wore a light yukuta that was open and as he stepped up to Aya he buried his face in the damp hair and took a deep breath through his nose. He was scenting him as one would an animal. "Did my twins scare you?" His voice was heavy with sleep, or so Aya thought - he would later come to recognise it as lust.

"I want to see how well they cleaned you." Crawford murmured into his hair as he undid the belt holding fast Aya's robes, "mine," he murmured. His mouth was making wet designs on Aya's throat, designs he didn't understand. Nor did he understand the wet shivers that were passing through him. With a clearly defined motion Crawford pushed away the heavy linen robe Aya wore and revealed him in his nakedness because he hadn't dressed as heavily as he normally did after his bath.

"Camellias]," Crawford murmured against the ridge of his collarbone. "You smell of camellias."

Aya was caught between terror and duty as Crawford mouthed the contours of his chest. He wanted to serve his lord, but he did not know what his lord wanted of him. All his anxiety was pooling in his stomach. "Lovely," Crawford murmured and pushed him hard, so that Aya lost his balance, with a small cry he reached out and grabbed Crawford's arm, pulling him down along with him. They landed in a clatter of limbs. "Silly little tayu," Crawford almost growled and pulled open the fabric making sure to catch it on anything that protruded like nipples.

Crawford was gentle and playful, watching Aya's expression as he licked at the pale pink nipples on his chest. Aya wanted to buck, to throw him off, but it felt good. He justified it to himself by saying that it was what his master wanted, and just because he didn't understand it didn't make it wrong.

The master could have anything he wanted. It felt good to obey the master.

He couldn't stop the loud exhalation that escaped him when Crawford turned his attention to the swell of his hip bones. "I could eat you up." Crawford almost growled it out.

By now Aya could not ignore his erection. It was not his first and he wanted desperately to be ashamed of it in front of his master but everything was coalescing there and all he could do was throw back his head and groan as Crawford trailed the tip of a single finger along the vein that ran along its underside. He wanted to buck up into the touch, which felt entirely different to when he touched himself. He wanted more. He wanted. He just wasn't sure what he wanted.

"Beautiful," Crawford murmured, almost as if he was trying to calm a skittish animal.

He ran the flat of his palm up Aya's erection and with a stuttering cry Aya's world gathered in his balls and exploded.

Crawford sat up with a smirk and looked down at the boy sprawled on the floor beside him, he looked at the cords of his kimono splayed across his skin and had an idea.

Naoe opened the door. "Master," he said without even bothering to notice what was happening inside the room. "I'm going swimming with Omi." Then closed the door again.

Crawford's laugh was dark and sinister. "Well, my little camellia," he said addressing Aya, "that ruined the mood didn't it. You'll need another bath." He grabbed Aya's chin and pulled him towards him, at the last moment, as their lips neared, Aya turned his face away and Crawford wetly kissed his cheek.

Aya gathered up his robes and left though his legs were shaky.

As he watched him go Crawford licked the last vestiges of semen from his hand and decided that the boy was sweeter than he even knew. Even if he had arranged for Naoe to interrupt them.


	9. Chapter 9

The pace of the Fujimiya house was one of quiet contemplation most times. Aya spent his mornings with his master playing go, and then when Hikarin awoke, the rest of his days with her. Crawford had noticed small changes in Aya's behaviour; the simple errors he had made in his company were slowly disappearing into the more stately manners of a trained court concubine.

The shy and demanding boy, determined to do his duty, was slipping his emotions quickly behind the "noh" mask of court.

He was also getting better at court.

But the witty repartee of court Hikarin obviously could not teach him.

Crawford began to consider returning her to Kyoto as she was reaching the limit of her usefulness to him.

As Crawford looked at the beautiful boy opposite him he realised that even though he had chosen Hikarin to train him because she was the lesser of the four stars of the flower and willow world, and such it would not be seen as an offence to either Takatori, he really should have taken Bikiko.

"Master," Saya said kneeling at the door. "A messenger from Kyoto has come." She said with her head properly bowed. She and her sister were usually only this well behaved when someone higher ranked in the court than he himself called on them.

He wondered idly who it was because he had not received a vision, but then again, he had been distracted with Aya. He wondered just how much worse it would get when he started fucking the boy.

"Invite him in," Crawford said as Aya began gathering up the go board. They would not finish this game today. "Aya, I want you to wait on us, stay."

Aya nodded his lovely head, "by your will, my lord." He said quietly.

 

The messenger from Kyoto was from the first guard of the Dairai, he was a tall stern faced man whose hair was black underneath a messy white mop. He had several rings in each ear and looked bored rather than tired from his long journey. He did not bother to introduce himself, but wore solid black with a round golden crest on each shoulder. He had a confident stance and refused Crawford's request that he sit.

"Haru," he addressed the man with the familiarity of someone who had known him a very long time. "It has been a while, tell me, how is your fair wife?"

Haru answered him quickly and coldly. "The emperor requests your presence, Crawford." Rather than being peremptory, as Aya had suspected, the man just had a rather dry persona, he was ill given to displays of emotion or amusement. "The empress has retreated to Kyoto."

"Again." Crawford answered pulling a face, "and it's my turn, right?"

Haru remained impassive. "Well," he answered, "Uesugi did it last time, and Kureno the time before that, which does mean that it is your turn. You are to report to her in Edo and negotiate a peace treaty between her and his eminence." This time the voice seemed amused, "and I would advise leaving the boy here, you know how the empress feels about beauty other than her own."

Crawford sighed.

Aya was baffled that he might be offended at attending her grace the beloved of the emperor. He knew better than to say anything though. One of his very first lessons with Hikarin was that a concubine should listen and not talk.

"We'll leave in the morning," Crawford said, "it is already past noon, too late to start such a journey." He sounded bored by the very idea, "it will give you the chance to rest before you return to Kyoto."

"Your generosity is, as always, charming, Crawford." Haru answered. "But tell me, where did you get this charming boy?" Even that was delivered in the same low drawl with which the man spoke.

"He was a gift, from the Takatori," Crawford answered, "the father gave me a house, one son gave me a fine steed and the other something else to ride."

Aya blushed but said nothing.

"Is his hair really that colour?" The imperial envoy said leaning back into a comfortable sprawl on the tatami.

"Is yours?" Aya asked angrily.

It seemed that the envoy, Haru, had expected that because he laughed. "Oh, Crawford, he's a keeper." The man said, "now boy, run and fetch us some of that sake that this backwater is so famous for." Aya bit his lip to control his temper but nonetheless stood firm.

"I only obey my master." He grated out.

Crawford blinked in surprise, he hadn't expected that Hikarin would teach Aya that. He nodded then and Aya left.

"A fine looking lad," Haru said as he pulled the door behind him, "you might not want to let the emperor see him, you know he has an eye for boy-meat."

"Married to the woman he is," Crawford answered, "I am not surprised. Tell me, Haru, can you play go?"

 

Crawford was drunk. He, Haru, Schuldig and Yohji had held a small banquet in Haru's honour which had been a poor excuse to drink sake and eat the finest food that Baba had been prepared to make for them. Hikarin had been called to serve but had said that Aya was unready to serve such fine company and had left him with the servant girls in the kitchen with his whipping boy, Sena, and his puppy, Kimi. She had sent for girls from the local brothel and Aya was painfully aware of the sounds of laughter and drunken boasting from the great hall.

Baba told him he was better off out of it, but Aya still felt dejected.

It was Schuldig who popped his head around the kitchen door where Aya waited, either to be released to his bed, or to be summoned. Some of the girls who left the room to fetch more sake, beer or food told how they had been made to dance and he was far too cultured to be exposed to such debauchery.

Nevertheless as his master's concubine it was his duty.

He had lost his parents to suicide from shame, his sister to marriage and his holdings to the Takatori; he had even lost his own name. All he had left was his duty and he wanted to do it as well as he could.

Schuldig literally popped his head through the door opening, "we're going to bed," he announced with a certain degree of aplomb, "Crawford wants you, boy, in his room. He's just showing Haru around the boat house but he wants his futon laid out and you waiting." Then he burped and grinned to himself.

As Aya stood up Baba stood up behind him and give him a small hug, then tugged down the collar of his kimono to show the tattoo there. "I believe in you." She said quietly and then kissed his cheek, "I'll look after Sena and the baby." He nodded and went to obey.

 

Crawford was drunk.

Hikarin made sure to paw Aya on her way past him to bed. She specifically went out of her way to do so. Her attention made Ran more nervous.

Crawford was drunk.

When his father or his advisors had been drunk there had always been a sense of merriment about them, a few babbled verses of song before they fell asleep on their cushions, often with their cups still in their hands. A few of them made rather half hearted attempts at groping the servant girls but Crawford was not like that.

Crawford was drunk.

He had removed his eyeglasses and his normally pristine kimono was loosely belted revealing his nagajubon and an expanse of chest. He sat down awkwardly, cross-legged, on his futon.

Crawford was drunk.

"I am going to Edo tomorrow." He said calmly, his voice only slightly slurring, "to see the empress." That was said with disdain, "but this house has ears." He turned his attention to Aya. "The Takatori had no idea what they gave away," then he stopped, "well Hirofumi did." He laughed, "Come here, boy."

Crawford was drunk.

He grabbed Aya by the loop of his obi and pulled him forward. "Hikarin keeps you in the dark," he breathed hotly into Aya's ear, "so I don't send her away." He laughed and then licked the lobe. "You didn't want mizuage." He said, "You are a fool."

He made quick work of the elaborate layers of Aya's kimono. "You're too thin," he said finally looking at Aya's nakedness, "need to put some meat on those bones." And then he laughed at a joke only he got. "Now give me your hand."

He did as he was told.

With his free hand Crawford quickly removed his robes until he was sitting naked on his futon. He was erect and his erection was swollen and red. Aya couldn't bear to look at it. Crawford had no such compunction, "you are mine, boy." His breath was hot in Aya's face and tasted of sake. "Remember that." Then he closed Aya's hand around his cock. It was hot and dry and jerked against his palm, if Crawford had not held it in place he would have pulled his hand away.

The slight movement must have pleased him because Crawford groaned. Then he began to drag Aya's hand up and down the throbbing erection making half noises and murmurs, then he pulled his hand away and put his hand on the back of Aya's neck. With a solid push he forced Aya's face into his crotch. "Use your mouth."

Aya did not understand and looked at Crawford but his head was cast back. Hikarin had mentioned none of this to him. Crawford smelled of soap and the detergent that Baba used to wash his clothes, and underneath it there was something musky, something Aya did not recognise. Crawford pushed down on the back of his head again, "use your mouth," Aya opened his mouth and took Crawford's erection inside.

It was hot, and moving, and tasted of soap and salt, nevertheless he did as he was told. This was his duty; even if he found it distasteful he would do it to the best of his ability.

Crawford was thrusting into his mouth, holding his head in position with his hands. His movements were getting quicker and jerkier, and then he pulled out and came across Aya's face. It was only then he pulled up Aya's head to look at him. "Lovely," he murmured, "there's a cloth, clean us both up." He threw back the coverlet on his futon and climbed in, with the blanket pulled in such a way that it hid nothing of his nakedness. Aya took the cloth and bowl of water from the table and made sure to clean his master before himself although the fluid on his face was rapidly cooling and sticky. It felt unpleasant.

When he was done he laid the bowl back where he had found it and then pulled his robe back on. "Where you going?" Crawford mumbled into his pillow, "Was point of a bed warmer if bed's cold?" He moved across the futon to give Aya some more room. Aya looked at the door a little longingly before he removed his robe again and climbed into the futon next to his master.


	10. Chapter 10

Aya awoke in Crawford's futon after sleeping badly. He was held in a death grip by a strong male arm. He wasn't sure if he wanted to lean back against the warmth of Crawford's chest and the steady beat of his heart or vomit. He felt used and dirty but strangely proud because he had, for the first time in the months since his family's shame, fulfilled his duty. After all he had little left in his life except Crawford's amusement.

Crawford was slobbering drunkenly at the back of his neck, smacking his lips as he pulled Aya tighter against him. Aya swallowed back a sob. It didn't matter. It would be dawn soon enough.

He rolled over so that he looked at his master. From this angle Crawford was almost attractive. His mother had said that only duty mattered and although he felt dirty and used he had fulfilled his duty. He buried his head in the hollow at the base Crawford's neck and wept.

"

Dawn came and went with Crawford ignoring his concubine other than allowing him to wash down his master. He did not attempt to engage him in conversation, just allowed his numb white hands to dress him quickly and efficiently for the journey ahead.

Aya wondered if Crawford would pay him.

He didn't even give him that much attention.

He just left him after a light breakfast, in which he picked at his food and gulped greedily at his peppermint tea. Then with a few instructions to Baba, a few more to Hikarin and some to Schuldig he and Haru left the house on their way to Edo.

Aya watched him go with a strange sense of lacking that he couldn't understand. Baba came up behind him and put a heavy winter kimono about his shoulders. "You did well, lad," she said giving him a quick hug. "you did well."

He didn't have an answer for her.

"

Hikarin was bored.

She hadn't even bothered to dress properly or paint her face in days. Crawford had left on some imperial mission and the two captains he had left behind weren't worth the bother. She wondered if she could get herself invited to visit one of the Takatori nearby.

Even Aya looked stilted. The heavy summer heat was giving way to autumn chill and winds. The sky, however, was clear and bright and the sun golden through the ash coloured sky.

She decided then she would take a walk into the village, it was not far, less than half a mile, and it would be good to stretch her legs. She looked across at Aya, sitting primly reading at his table. Yes, she decided, she would show off her little protégé, because Aya might be dull but he was beautiful.

"I have been remiss in your training." She said sitting up and throwing aside the scroll she was reading. "I should teach you to paint your face, and I have a wig, we will make you as beautiful as I am." She smiled to herself as Aya looked a little blank, "well, almost." She laughed at her own joke, "stay there." Then with a clatter of her geta she went to her room.

She returned with a lacquered box and a cloth bag.

She was grinning like a demon as she sat down facing him. The box was full of cosmetics and she quickly bound back his own hair with a silk cap and painted his face white with a foul smelling cream. She rubbed a black gritty substance over his teeth, and then with a thin black brush began detailing his eyes and mouth. She put a sweep of pale lavender shadow over each eye and dark rich purple gloss on his lips. Then she smiled to herself, and it was a cruel smile as she drew in eyebrows. Then she fixed a heavy dark smelling wig over his hair. It was long and black, hanging almost all the way to his knees.

"Now," she said proudly, sitting back, "you look like a tayu." She grabbed him by the hand, "let's go for a walk."

"I can't." Aya protested, "I can't leave the house."

Hikarin's smile was luminescent. "Just to the boathouse and back, he won't mind, you're not going far."

Aya was still nervous.

"What's the point," she wheedled, "of being so beautiful when there's nobody to see it."

"Just to the boathouse," he conceded. After all Crawford had been gone nearly three weeks, it was unlikely that he would return to catch him breaking the rules that he had set down. Still he was worried. "And quickly."

"

Hikarin really had outdone herself. Aya was caught unawares by his reflection in the still waters of the house's private lake. He didn't recognise his own reflection.

"Why hello," a man said stepping up behind them. Aya did not recognise him, he knew Schuldig, barely, but mostly the men of the house avoided the women whom he had been relegated to live with. "I can't say I've seen you before."

Hikarin shimmered under his flattery. "Why, Kudoh-san," she said flashing her fan quickly like a hummingbird, "have you not met this lovely creature?" Aya raised his face and mimicked the movement of Hikarin's fan with his own.

"No, Hikarin," he said appraising Aya in a way that made him feel like meat, "I can't say that I have. But," he looked at the sky, "it looks like it might rain, let me escort you ladies back to the main house."

Hikarin gave a girlish giggle that she hid behind her fan. "Why thank you, Kudoh-san, you are as knightly as your manners."

"And what of our little butterfly?" Kudoh asked extending a long thin hand, "do you think me as courtly as my manners."

"I am in minarai." Aya answered calmly. It was nice the way this man paid attention to him, but he knew that's all it could be, attention. Crawford had made his rules clear and Aya had every intention of living by them.

"There is nothing in this world as sublime as a courtesan in minarai." Kudoh said with a leer. "Or as desirable, is this white skin your own or the work of Hikarin's talented hands?"

Aya flushed under the heavy paint at the rather obscene compliment. "Why our little girl," Hikarin answered with a laugh, "she's as pale as new snow, and as lovely. You are right, Kudoh, I think I feel a chill in the air, let us retire inside where we can get some hot sake and talk of other matters."

Hikarin leant in to whisper in Aya's ear, "accept his compliments, I won't let this get out of hand, but you need to get used to being desired, and if there is one thing that Kudoh is it's desirous." She walked alongside him for the first time since she had taken over his training, "It is in his nature to want what he cannot have but it is the courtesan's place to make him think that he can get it."

Aya swallowed but she was his teacher and he would obey.

"

It was said about the court that Yohji Kudoh had one thing on his mind most of the time and as far as those who knew him felt, it was true. He had wandering hands and Aya quickly became adept at slapping him on the hand with his fan whilst smiling politely, exactly as Hikarin had described. He was almost becoming good at it. Even if his instinctive reaction to Kudoh's pawing was to slap him hard, mutter shi ne and retire to his room.

This, he conceded, was simply part of his training.

Hikarin was getting drunk.

He assumed that everything was under control when he heard the shush of pocket doors sliding open. He was learning, even if the sake was warming his cheeks and making his laughter at Kudoh's bawdy jokes a little easier. He was surprised by himself when he leant forward and laid the flat of his hand on Kudoh's thigh sure that it was the sake making him so forward. His head was lolling on his neck.

"Slut." A male voice said from the door and carelessly picked him up by the collar, "you're mine." It was Crawford. He threw Aya over his shoulder as easily as if he was made of cloth. Crawford smelt of dust and autumn and rain but the jostling was unpleasant and Aya thought he might be sick. He had had too much sake but he hadn't noticed. He hadn't even emptied a single cup.

Crawford threw him on the floor of the doll room hard. His wig fell away. "Mine," he snarled and then stepped forward and began tearing at Aya's clothes. Aya lolled back and let him. His fingernails were sharp on his skin as Crawford repeated "mine" over and over again. There was no gentleness, no subtlety, as soon as he was naked Crawford hefted him up over his raised thighs and with very little break he penetrated him.

Aya cried out then. Crawford didn't stop, he just thrust and withdrew and thrust again, his hands on Aya's hips regardless if he hurt him, taking what was his with repeated exclamations of mine.

The haze of sake was fast vanishing and unsure what else to do Aya clung to his master, laying his head on Crawford's shoulder and repeated the word "yours."


	11. Chapter 11

It was interminable. It was never ending. It was white light bearing down on Aya even as he clung to Crawford.  
Crawford thrust inside him with no care for his concubine; he forced him against the floor so he might have a better angle. His mouth made sloppy patterns on Aya's neck and one hand pulled lazily on his cock, the other being around his hip. Even that was painful.  
He could hear Crawford's gasping grunts, feel the thudding of his heart, see the way his eyes were screwed shut. Aya's fingers hurt where he clung to Crawford. He didn't know what else to do.  
After an eternity of thrusting and withdrawing to thrust again-It seemed it was over. Crawford jerked against him and white-hot splashes coated Aya inside. He turned his head away from Crawford's attempts to kiss him on the mouth.  
It seemed to enrage him further.  
He withdrew from Aya and with a slap to the face turned him over so that he was buried in his futon with his ass in the air. Crawford's thin fingers dug into the curve of his pelvic bone. He could feel Crawford's nails. He whimpered. If anything it seemed to drive Crawford on. Crawford was swollen and solid, Aya couldn't help but try to pull away. It hurt so much. Crawford just tightened his grip, one arm wrapped around the soft flesh of his stomach and the other about his throat. He held on so tight Aya could barely breathe.  
Then he pushed in. It was like murder.  
It was like being torn apart.  
Crawford was hot and long and hard and he did not fit. Aya couldn't help but cry out, but Crawford just pushed in deeper. He went so deep Aya thought that he had been run through.  
Aya could feel his wet hot pants at the back of his neck, the soft slap of his balls against his ass. He could feel each pull and the corresponding push as if it was a red-hot poker thrust inside him.  
This was torture. Aya thought to himself.  
This was like dying.  
Crawford pulled out before the splash then pulled Aya up unto his knees, he kissed his back wetly, his tongue tracing over the raised flesh of the tattoo. "Mine," he repeated, "forever, mine."  
"Yours," Aya repeated because he didn't know what else to do. His voice was hitching, Crawford released the arm about his chest and throat and instead manipulated Aya's cock, it was half erect because he couldn't help it. His hand pulled and twisted and Aya could feel each and every crease of his palm, the pressure of fingers against his balls, as Crawford pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled.  
The changed position meant that Crawford hurt new places inside him and there was one place that stiffened his cock and made fireworks shoot inside his mind like the end of the world. Every time Crawford pushed forward Aya pulled back, writhing from the pain. Every time Aya called out it just drove Crawford on.  
Aya's face slipped and slid against the futon that occasionally swallowed his sobs.  
The blanket tore underneath him.  
His kimono was destroyed beyond repair as Crawford pulled back and pushed the head of his cock against Aya's balls. Aya cried out again, his back arching and Crawford's rough fingers found his nipples, the flat plain of his stomach. His fingers gripped the white flesh, his nails caught here and there.  
He pushed the fingers of one hand into Aya's mouth as he pushed back inside him causing Aya to choke.  
"Beautiful," Crawford mumbled as Aya cast his head back, "mine."  
Aya couldn't answer him with the hand in his mouth.  
The monstrous member inside him pressed against that spot inside him that was like the end of the world as Crawford's free hand pulled roughly at his cock and arching his back into a perfect C, and despite himself and that there was no pleasure in this for him, Aya came. "Beautiful," Crawford mumbled again and then turned Aya, lying him flat on the futon and sliding out of him. He proceeded to lap up the sticky fluid on Aya's stomach and thighs like a cat.  
Aya turned his head away from the spectacle. His hand fell to his face covering it as Crawford began to gently lap at his spent member. It felt like torture and bliss at the same time. It was so gentle. It was not enough. It was too much.  
He could feel Crawford's hot cock against his calf, hot and wet like a brand or acid. He could feel hot slick liquid trailing out of his ass. He was sore. He wanted to scream out, to bring his knees against his chest and turn away, but this was his duty. He just lolled back as Crawford brought his mouth around the spent flesh of his cock and began to softly suck, bobbing his head, cupping with his tongue. He rolled Aya's fingers between index finger and thumb.  
Against his own will Aya found himself moving his feet to find purchase against the matting and the futon, his heels slipping and skidding against the fabric. Crawford pulled back and wiped at his mouth with his fist before pulling Aya's hand away from his face. "Let me see you," he murmured and then pressed his entire weight against Aya's, so that the burning expanse of his chest was pressed against Aya's, so that his cock was pressed against Aya's stomach and Aya's own was against the line of hairs on Crawford's.  
It was exquisite.  
It was terrible.  
He wanted it to stop.  
He wanted it to never end.  
If not for the pain, Aya thought, this would be wondrous. But it hurt, it hurt so badly he wanted to be sick or cry out. It hurt so badly he wanted to die.  
Crawford could see the tears in his eyes and he licked them away with the tip of a pink tongue. "my beautiful Aya," he whispered, his breath hot and meaty against Aya's ear, "my beautiful boy, mine, all mine."  
"Yours," Aya repeated turning his face away from Crawford's open-mouthed kiss, "I belong only to you."  
It seemed that was the signal Crawford was waiting for, with a roll of his hips he found Aya's entrance easily and pushed in. Aya was slack and lubricated now so it was just a dull pain, easily ignored. Crawford rolled them so that Aya was above him, his thighs, scratched and welted, spread around Crawford's wider hips, Crawford's thighs holding him upright and rather than clutch at his hips, as Aya expected him, or even his ribs, which hurt from where he had clutched him so tight Aya had thought that he'd break, he threaded his fingers through his own. "My beautiful Aya." Crawford replied and began to flex his hips, pushing himself into Aya.  
Aya gave a hiccupping groan and unable to keep his back so still against the onslaught leant forward so his face was against Crawford's. Crawford wetly kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose and accepted when Aya turned his face away from the kisses near his mouth.  
Crawford came before Aya with a deep groan and a roll of the muscles of his stomach. He arched up, pushing himself as deep into Aya as he could go. Crawford cupped his face in one palm as he caught his ragged breath. He pulled back, Aya could feel the softening of Crawford's cock as Crawford laid him down on the futon so very carefully. He had spent his rage inside Aya's ass.  
He crawled down again and lifting Aya's hips up with his forearms he lowered his head between Aya's thighs. He sucked one ball into his mouth, and then the other, rolling them around in his mouth. Then his tongue flickered against the skin behind them and Aya surprised himself by crying out. He lapped at the skin, his fingers like drums beating on the stretched skin of his hipbones. He pressed his tongue to Aya's slack anus, then again. Aya arched in pain and finally passed out.

He awoke briefly to someone pressing a cold cloth against his forehead. He opened his eyes, though it hurt to do so, to see a man he didn't recognise with sandy brown hair and a kind smile. "Don't tell Ba-chan," Aya croaked.  
"Not if you don't want me to," the man said softly, wiping at Aya's face.  
"Did my duty," he managed. The man continued with his faintly mocking smile as Aya passed out again.

The second time he awoke it was to the sound of voices but he was so hot and tired he didn't bother to open his eyes. It was two men but he didn't recognise either of them. "I think he's dying." One of them said.  
"No," the other said, "he's strong. He won't let something so trivial defeat him."  
The first answered but Aya couldn't make out the words, he kicked away the blankets and the very effort drove him under.

The third time he was cold, so very cold. He was shivering as the men on either side of him pressed their naked bodies against his to keep him warm. He could see the sleeping face of the kind smiling man and knew he was safe. That he had kept his word and nuzzled against the neck, relaxed against the arm that was thrown over him, the other man's, and slept.


	12. Chapter 12

Crawford opened the screens that separated his room from the veranda and looked out across at the Moon Shrine where they were keeping Aya. It had been three days since his return to the house and in that time Hikarin had availed herself of the hospitality of the Takatori. Crawford suspected that she knew exactly what he'd do to her if he caught her.  
They had been explicit about Aya's condition, "he needed stitches, Crawford," he had said with his eyes open to the truth, he normally kept them closed, "but," there had been a deep breath and the kindly smile fell from his mouth, "it was poison. At first we thought he had had too much sake and then the trauma." He had paused, pulling at his kimono; even now he wore a child's kimono. "Niisan," he continued to call him despite Crawford's demands to the contrary, he didn't show the proper respect and Crawford was often caught between wanting to throttle him and keep him near, "he's very ill, I'm going to keep him with me for a while." And Crawford had nodded because he wouldn't lie, because this wasn't one of his games. He played games but never with Crawford, well other than calling him Niisan. "I've written to Neesan." Crawford had known that, all such letters were passed through him.  
"Why," Crawford said standing, "why didn't he say no?"  
"I don't think he knew he could," the answer hurt Crawford and he hadn't expected it to. "She taught him nothing." Crawford had remembered all those times, "'Buchou was prepared to kill her for that alone till we discovered the poison in her things."  
"And now?" Crawford asked, he understood, he always did.  
"He's with the twins. I asked Neesan to train him properly." He went to go but then stopped at the door with a frown, "you know he told me not to tell Baba," that Crawford understood, "but he was proud that he did his duty."  
"Syuusuke," Crawford said, calling him back, "he is to have anything he wants[.]"  
Syuusuke's smile was softly mocking and his eyes narrow and fond, "Niisan," he protested in his faintly mocking way, "he's family now." He knew that Sysuusuke was only in part teasing him. Whatever else Syuusuke was, and he was a great many things, he was loyal to his family.  
Crawford sat and stared at the delicate carving on the moon shrine where Syuusuke had taken Aya to give him time to heal and sighed. He hadn't meant to hurt the boy; he had just been driven mad by lust, tiredness and jealousy. He had spent his time in Edo imagining the boy in the hands of Kudoh, and of lingering unwillingly on the image of Schuldig touching him. He thought of Hikarin leading him to the brothel in town for mizuage. Instead Hikarin had set him up, she had used Crawford's own desire against him.  
She would suffer a hundred deaths for it, Crawford thought to himself, he kept returning to the look of concern and sadness on Syuusuke's face as he said, "he needed stitches" and Tezuka wasn't a chiurgeon, he was a field medic. Aya hadn't wanted Baba to know.  
Crawford was scared and knew that Syuusuke had done the right thing, he had done what Crawford had been afraid to do, he had summoned Rukia.

Aya was wedged between two bodies, it was something he was almost getting used to. He was hot and tired and his limbs felt like they were made of lead. The bodies next to him, however, were sweet smelling and soft. He cracked open one eye slowly, with all the energy he could muster to see Saya asleep beside him, he assumed it was Maya on his other side then and felt safe again, his moment's worry gone. He didn't know why but he trusted the twins, they were kind to him, in their way although mocking, and the fact that they were there meant that he hadn't displeased his master. Maya was snoring.  
For the first time he felt awake enough to recognise where he was. He was in his mother's Moon Shrine. It was a circular building in the cherry orchard, his father had hired some of the best artists to decorate it and so it was lushly carved and the windows were shutters of elaborate fretwork. One of them was open, underneath it, on the bench lay the two men he had seen before. The man with the kind smile was lying against the other man, who he had never seen before, who was lying against the wooden partition in the shrine. They weren't talking, just lying together and their hands were looped. They were staring at the moon.  
Aya felt like a voyeur looking at them, not for being wedged between them when they slept the previous night, but for seeing them like this, twined together and staring at the moon. He knew that even though they were silent they were speaking volumes to each other with their breaths. His parents had been the same. Aya remembered that he was meant to have been married by now, if the Taira hadn't betrayed his family so badly. Her name had been Sara. He had never met her though he had once, young and foolish, sent her a letter with pressed violets inside. He knew he was going to marry her for the Fujimiya and the family's glory, that she had been chosen for that reason but he had wanted what these two men had, what his parents had.  
He wondered if he would have had it with Sara.  
In that moment he hated the Taira even more for what they had stolen from him by betraying his father. They had stolen his parents to murder and suicide, taken his name to family shame to be taken in by the kindness of the Takatori. They had done everything in their power to save the Fujimiya; Reiji had married his oldest son to his sister when she could not have hoped for so powerful a match following their disgrace. And then, to appease the emperor's negotiator sent to investigate the taira the Takatori had sent him, biding him to do his best. He tried, but he thought of the pain that lingered, it wasn't good enough. He had failed the Takatori, and he had failed Hikarin.  
"Oh," the kind eyed man said turning, his smile was faintly fond and mocking, "you're awake, how are you feeling?" The other man made a derisive snort, but said nothing.  
Aya opened his mouth to speak but the words were harder than they should have been. He wanted to apologise for bothering these kind men, for invading their lives and what was obviously their bed. The tall man was thin with dishevelled sandy brown hair and eyeglasses like Crawford's, disentangled himself, "would you like some water?"  
"Ah, Buchou," the other said with the same smirking smile, "how practical of you?" He watched as his lover, and it was obvious that the two were lovers, pour a bowl of water which he offered to Aya, beside him Saya and Maya slept the sleep of the dead. "Na, do you think if I poke them," he said gesturing to the two women, "that they will wake?"  
"Probably not," the Buchou said helping Aya to drink. "you've been in and out of consciousness for three days, don't push yourself?"  
"Sorry," he gasped, as the water eased the pressure on his throat.  
"Silly boy," the kind eyed man said with a grin, "if we didn't want you here you'd be alone asleep in the doll room," He squatted next to Aya and pressed his hand to his forehead, suddenly Aya remembered him doing that before, possibly through the long days of his illness, "besides, it wasn't your fault."  
"But," Aya protested.  
"Not your fault," the Buchou repeated firmly, "You did not poison yourself."  
Aya had no preparation for that, "he," Aya struggled for the words, "he tried to kill me?"  
Both men looked at each other, "no, child," the kind eyed man said softly, "Hikarin did."  
Aya looked forlorn, "but where are my manners," the man with the smile said, "I am your master's brother," the Buchou looked at him, "by marriage at least," he continued, "Fuji Syuusuke, and this is my Buchou," the way he said it made it a pet name of sorts, "Tezuka Kunimitsu, Crawford asked us to look after you whilst he skins Hikarin."  
"But," Aya protested.  
"The gloss on your lips," the Buchou, Tezuka, said, "was made of crushed nightshade mixed with lime." He went to go, "'Suki," he addressed Fuji in a way way that it was an abbreviation of his name. "I'll go get him some broth, see if poking does work with the twins."


	13. Chapter 13

Following his poisoning Aya was deathly weak. He was carried about by two of the guards on a cushioned board because he lacked the strength to walk. This amused Fuji to no end who referred to him as the baby he never wanted spoon feeding him whatever they were eating. Fuji confused Aya because despite seeming like an airhead, and bowing down to whatever Tezuka told him, it was clear that not only was he the dominant party in their relationship but Crawford trusted his counsel.  
It was also apparent to any who saw them that Fuji and Tezuka were that most mythical of matches, a love match.  
Saya and Maya sat beside him as Naoe haltingly read from the book of verse, "the Tale of Genji"? that Crawford had selected. Crawford himself sat at the window and watched the rain sheeting down. He was listening, as the servants kept them supplied with tea and sake and other sweets.  
"In the summer evening, Genji stopped to inquire after his old nurse, Koremitsu's mother, on his way from court to pay one of his calls at Rokujo mansion. His carriage was simple and unadorned and he had no servants. Beside the nurse's house was a new fence of plaited cypress. The four or five narrow shutters above had been raised, and new blinds, white and clean, hung in the aperture. The white flowers of Yugao, which meant "evening faces", were in bloom on the board wall. Genji sent his man to ask the name of the flower. That was the beginning of the encounter between Genji and Yugao."  
Crawford stood up, "I must go," he said a little woodenly, holding his head and biting at his lip. "Something is happening, Naoe keep reading, I will be back before dawn."  
"Master," one of the servants said, "the rain is coming down something awful, perhaps."  
"Bring me a heavy cloak and a hat to keep off the rain." Crawford corrected her before she even finished. He stopped and tilted his head as if listening to someone as one of the servants whispered the word oni, and that he was speaking to demons. Baba hushed them with a glare. "I'm only going to the house of Shuichi, Hikarin is playing her game and I can't miss the opening gambit."  
Then he turned to Naoe, "I leave you in charge during my absence, continue to read."  
Naoe took a sip of his tea before clearing his throat and continuing. "Koremitsu passed the flower to Genji on a white fan. A little girl of the house handed it to him. As he finished his visit to the nurse, he asked for a torch, and shone its light on the fan on which the evening face had rested. It was permeated with a lady's perfume, elegant and alluring. On it was a poem, "I think I need not ask whose face it is, so bright, this evening face, in the shining dew." Genji ordered Koremitsu to make inquiries about the woman."  
Aya frowned but turned his attention back to Naoe's halting reading of the poem and tried to ignore the whispers of the servants that his master was a demon, or in league with them. His master was an Onmyoji, a sorcerer, of course he had access to knowledge that they did not.  
Although he thought no one was noticing Tezuka was softly stroking the back of Fuji's hand. Aya desperately envied them and their complicity.  
He sat there for what must have been a few hours, listening to Naoe haltingly read with plenty of errors, drinking tea and basking in the warmth of the hearth. He even suspected he drowsed for a while, because since he had been poisoned he had been prone to falling asleep.  
When the person entered the room he assumed that it was Crawford returning. However the rain soaked figure wasn't nearly that tall or imposing. He wore a black kimono and hakama and his face was covered with a reed hat. There was a large katana blade strapped to the thin waist.  
Fuji got to his feet in a scramble. "Neesan!" he exclaimed, climbing over the prone people to get to the figure as he removed his hat. The hair underneath was wet and slicked back to a slender face with large eyes that were as deep and dark as pansy hearts.  
Yohji and Schuldig, who had been quietly getting drunk in one corner, turned to look at the figure. "Rukia-sama." They said bowing.  
"I'm looking for my husband." She said firmly.  
It was Baba that recovered first, as Saya and Maya tried to stand but ended up tripping on the folds of their kimono, everyone was bowing. "Well then, my lady, you are disappointed as Lord Crawford is out for the evening, but let us get you into some dry clothes and some warm food into you."  
Rukia's gaze was as cold as ice as she turned on Baba. "I do not care to be talked to like a child." She said, Baba bowed.  
"Neesan," Fuji scolded softly, "Ba-chan talks to everyone like that. Where is your," he stopped looking for the word, "train."  
"The weather was foul so I left them at the post-house. I couldn't take their complaints" She said. "My apologies, Ba-chan," she tested the word, "my brother mentioned you in his correspondence, I understand you have been lord of this manor during my absence." She turned to Sena who was resting on her hip and sucking his thumb. "Is this my little Naoe."  
"No," Naoe said sharply, "I'm Naoe."  
She turned to him and then frowned, "It is true, they do grow up so fast. I was away too long." She sounded regretful.  
"Five years." Fuji said with a smile. She lowered her eyes to the ground for a moment. "Saya, Maya," she acknowledged them with an easy familiarity, "Yohji, Schuldig, you haven't changed a bit."  
"Rukia-sama," Yohji said, "you cut your hair." Rukia's hair was short, like a boy's, instead of the flowing tresses the other women had.  
"I didn't want lice." She answered calmly. "Now, Ba-chan," she was obviously still hesitant over the name, "please escort me to my husband's room, Saya, Maya, if you can find me something to wear, it looks like Naoe's clothes will fit me." There was another fleeting look of sadness, "and then when I have eaten and had some tea, bring me the concubine that has my husband so confused."

When Yohji carried Aya he always made sure to hold him by the ass. Neither of them spoke of it because it was the only time Yohji even noticed his presence, Aya had been the one to suffer Crawford's jealousy before and it was possible that Yohji even felt guilty for it.  
He carried him into the library and placed him on a pile of cushions. Lady Rukia had been dressed in one of his own kimono, highly decorated, and tied rather roughly in such a way that her legs were totally naked, and her feet were bare. Her hair turned out to have a single thin long braid over her shoulder and she stood at the futon cupboard going through Crawford's papers without care. "So you are Aya," she said without turning, "the twins told me about what happened, how Hikarin was asked to train you and what she did instead. Fuji asked Crawford to ask me to train you properly."  
"Were you a courtesan, my lady?" Aya asked.  
"No," Rukia shook her head, "I was a princess of the house of Fuji," she smiled, "and I was an imperial negotiator. I spent three years in Europe at the emperor's request less than a year after my marriage. I," she stopped, "I know some of the premier courtesans in the world," she said then smiled, "and you will be my triumph. You will be my gift to my husband."  
"Why?" Aya asked, "if he's your husband, I mean."  
Rukia sat down then and looked at Aya as if measuring each and every one of the faults of his skin, "my husband and I serve the imperial household. We are negotiators with all that that means." She cupped Aya's face, "so soft, I cannot guarantee my husband anything of my time or life, but you," she smiled then, "you can travel by his side for me. Can you think of a better gift for him?"  
"But my lady," Aya protested.  
"You cannot bear him children, you cannot use your blood to coerce him, he will never throw me away for you. You are a silly boy, Aya, but when I am done with you," with one fingertip she traced the rose design on his kimono, "you will be Aya no Bara. You will be the envy of the empire, and I will have trained you."  
She turned to the twins who sat on either side behind her like gargoyles, "Saya, will you help him to stand, Maya, undress him."  
Aya was always surprised by Saya's strength as she helped him to stand. "This is your first lesson, my Aya no Bara." As Maya stripped him efficiently of the kimono and juban she lifted a bowl, soap and a cut throat razor. "Hold as still as you can."  
Aya screwed his eyes shut as his lady began to shave his crotch and balls, with Maya and Saya holding him upright. She was quick and deft and the blade sharp.  
He was amazed just how naked it made him feel, how exposed, then when she had done she pressed a soaked cloth against the skin and it tingled maddeningly.  
"Your first lesson," she said, "is that hair deadens sensation, keep yourself shaved," Maya lifted his left arm and quickly Rukia pulled the blade over the skin pulling away the cut hair, then again with the hot cloth. Then she did the other quickly. "Your second is that when it grows back, it itches."  
"Will he, I mean, will the master like this?"  
Rukia's laugh was disdainful. "It doesn't matter, Hikarin really taught you nothing, did she?" She cupped his face again, "then this will be your first lesson, you choose him, you can refuse him, you are not a wife, and even if you were he'd want the fire in your belly. A courtesan is not a prostitute, she chooses whom she lies with and when and then what they do. Syuusuke said you didn't know better and I think that is disgusting, if I get my hands on her." She stopped and calmed herself. "You can say no, you always could."  
And for some reason that hurt Aya more than if she had run him through.


	14. Chapter 14

Crawford returned just before dawn with a servant trailing behind him. It was Mamoru's guard Ken, and the next evening it was Rukia, who sat in a billow of pleated gauze, with a velvet robe about her, who revealed that he had accidentally struck Hikarin on the face with the whip he was using to kill rats. Rukia was little given to gossip but her brother had eventually wrung the information from her after she had taken it from her husband.  
Aya thought on that, that Ken had scarred Hikarin who had demanded his death and that Crawford had saved him. He thought on how Rukia must have gathered the information from her husband, whom she admitted she had not seen in five years, and wondered if the unsteady sensation in his belly might have been jealousy. Yet, she had said that she would train him, and despite her cold manner and her wicked tongue, he admired her, and wondered if he was jealous of Crawford's attention to her, or if he just wanted to be her.

Crawford came in to the music room where Rukia was holding court. Schuldig and Yohji were waiting on her every word whilst the twins were laughing behind their fans. Fuji was leaning up against Tezuka, listening to the strange sights his sister described when Crawford slid open the door without waiting. Aya sat alone.  
"Your entourage is here." He said bluntly, "and mail, for our Aya." He threw the letter at him, he picked it up from the floor. It hadn't been opened but the seal on the back was Taira.  
"I don't care." Aya said thrusting it back at him, "why would they write to me?"  
Schuldig took the letter and opened it with a roll of his eyes, "hello, blah blah blah, previous friendship, blah blah, interested in starting afresh, blah blah, will call on the," Schuldig lowered the letter working the date out in his head, "day after tomorrow in the hopes of rekindling our childhood acquaintance as I have returned from court. Yours, Izumi Sano of the house of Taira." He handed the letter to Crawford who slipped it back into the band of his kimono.  
"You will meet him," Crawford said, "after all," he smirked to himself, "you were childhood friends."  
Aya scowled, it was true, he and Sano had been childhood friends and he had plenty of memories of the boy before he went to court, and how wild and fun he could be, and how sombre, and how just before he left they had got drunk and promised drunkenly to marry each other and not the women their parents had selected for them. Then he went to court and he never wrote, and his parents betrayed Aya's and everything fell apart. It might not have been Sano's fault but he would happily take his temper out on him.  
"Now, if you don't mind, Rukia, wife," he enunciated that word carefully, "there is a strange man downstairs terrorising Naoe."  
"About yea high," she asked holding out her hand, "white hair, eye patch, walks with a kind of roll."  
"That will be him." Crawford did not sound amused.  
Rukia laughed, "that's my elf," she said, "I found him in Italy and I had to keep him, I don't think he's quite human." Crawford did not look amused, "it's just Farfarello, he is a great guardian, why he would have made you proud had you known about him."  
"He is throwing Naoe in the air." Crawford replied, "and I think the boy is about to vomit on the mats."  
Rukia just smiled. "He's just playing." She said indulgently, "now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted." Crawford slammed the door behind him.

Izumi Sano of the house of Taira had, in the year or so of his absence, grown beautiful. He had pale, almost translucent, skin and large expressive dark eyes, framed with inky black lashes. His lips were a pale peach and he carried with him a terrible burden of sadness. When he saw Aya he stood up from where he had knelt, as serene and implacable as a statue with his fine white hands folded in his lap. "Ran," he said with genuine warmth, grasping Aya's forearm and squeezing tight. "Your hair," he touched the short strands with cool fingers.  
Behind him Aya heard Yohji say to Schuldig, "Imagine the two of them together," and shuddered pleasantly.  
Schuldig whispered back, "but who'd be on top."  
Yohji snorted out a laugh, "why me of course."  
If Sano heard them he said nothing.  
"Lets go get Fuji," Schuldig snorted back, "we can get pictures and sell them to the highest bidder in the capital."  
Then the two of them stood up leaving Aya alone.

Aya and Sano had been inseparable until Sano had left to marry. He had spent a year away and a lot had happened between them but at the same time being alone with him it felt strangely as if nothing had ever changed. In truth everything had. "You look much younger," Sano said quietly, "with your hair like that, and I heard that you were ill."  
Aya couldn't find the words to say so he said nothing instead.  
"I missed you." Sano said, finally breaking the silence.  
"You left," Aya answered and he hadn't meant it to be as vicious as it sounded, or as cruel.  
"We are instruments of our family's duty." Sano answered calmly, "even I. I came back though." He looked saddened which heightened his almost painful beauty.  
"You got married." Aya added.  
"I was told to." Sano said softly, "she died."  
"So you return to me," Aya answered, "because she died, what was the plan, to see if you could arrange a second marriage with my sister."  
"No," Sano protested, "you are my friend and when I heard what happened…"  
"and what did you hear?" Aya snarled, "that your family betrayed mine and my parents unable to take the shame killed themselves, or how the Takatori were the only people kind enough to take me and my sister in."  
"They didn't take you in, Ran, they seized your property," sano protested, "the Taira had nothing to do with what happened, the Takatori betrayed your family."  
"You're just saying that to make me believe you." Aya snarled.  
"It's true," Rukia said from the door, he hadn't heard her enter, "the Takatori borrowed money from the Fujimiya who in turn borrowed it from the Taira. The Takatori never intended to pay it back, they used your father's sense of honour against him so when he faced up to the problem they betrayed him to the emperor."  
"I was there," Sano said, "in court, the emperor knew that the Takatori were lying but he couldn't prove it."  
"No," Aya said, "they were kind, they took us in."  
"They married Aya to Hirofumi," Rukia said quietly, "to make sure the seizure was legal which left them with you, I think if Hirofumi hadn't wanted you as badly as he did you would have been murdered."  
"You're lying." Aya protested, they wouldn't do that, not the Takatori, they had been kind to him.  
"What reason have I to lie, what did they tell you, to keep Crawford sweet, to do what he wanted so that Reiji would come out best in the negotiations." Rukia said softly.  
"It wasn't much to ask," Aya conceded. "They were so kind."  
"No," Rukia said softly, "but it was all a farce. My lord Taira," she bowed her head to Sano, "I think it would be best if you left, you can return tomorrow, but I think our little rosebud needs to be on his own for a while."  
Sano nodded, then he lifted Aya's hand and kissed it, just on the flesh where the thumb met the palm. It was a lover's kiss, Rukia thought, but said nothing. Crawford's games were his own.  
When he had gone Aya collapsed in on himself where he was sat, "tell me it's not true."  
"Do you want me to lie to you?" she asked, "because I will, I am not my husband, his allegiances are not mine." In that instant Rukia looked very old and wise indeed, as if she had carried great burdens on her tiny shoulders. More than anything Aya wanted to trust her.  
"Does Crawford want me to seduce Sano, to bind him to his cause?"  
"I don't know," Rukia sighed, "come on, Rosebud," she said softly offering her his arm.  
"Yohji said that he wanted to see me and Sano together." Aya told her softly.  
"That would be the sight," she said with a wicked smile, "you're both as pretty as pictures," she reached out and swept a red ear tail from his face, "you have a lot of thinking to do, a lot of rage to express. When you are stronger, I will ask Tezuka to train you in the art of Kendo." She looked tired again, "and Fuji in the art of calligraphy, but first, my little Rosebud, we will teach you the greatest art of the courtesan and one of the most satisfying, we will teach you how to say no to suitors you have no interest in."

For her lesson Rukia had gathered all the young men of her acquaintance, including her rather frightening one eyed guard whose name Aya could not pronounce. She sat them around a table and sat next to Aya. There was a large bottle of sake on the table and Yohji and Schuldig were leaning into each other and giggling, probably picturing him and Sano together Aya suspected. Fuji and Tezuka were trying to be surreptitious as they held hands and Farfarello was picking at his nails with a curved knife. The twins sat behind Rukia waiting for the show.  
"We'll think of this lesson," Rukia began, "as a game," she clapped her hands in glee, "we will go around the table and each of you will try and woo Aya, and he in turn will tell you no, but he is not allowed to use the word no and must be witty." She poured him a bowl of sake and watched as he drank it. "I'll demonstrate, Yohji."  
Yohji cleared his throat, "Rukia, you are the light of my life, and I simply must know the pleasures you can bring or I will expire."  
Rukia took a fan from the table and rested it against her cheeks, "then I am afraid you must expire for my pleasures are taken by he who is the light of my life." The twins laughed. "Schuldig," she said looking at the redheaded Doitsujin.  
"You must be an angel to be so lovely." Schuldig said.  
"And you must think I came down in the last rainstorm," Rukia said without changing her rather sweet expression, "to fall for so trite a line, Fuji."  
"I'm your brother," Fuji protested, "do I have to?"  
Rukia conceded the point and turned to Tezuka, he thought about it for a moment, "your beauty overwhelms me, madam, and know that I would cherish you."  
"And I would cherish such attention," Rukia winked at Aya, "but beauty fades and I fear you will not want me when I am old so I must refuse." Tezuka nodded noting Rukia's pleased expression. "And Farfarello." She left it open for him.  
The white haired man rolled his eyes then said, in a heavily accented voice "How's about you and me make the beast with two backs?" He asked.  
Rukia just laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

[](http://f-lite.ru/lfp/s020.radikal.ru/i714/1404/6e/34a3dea085e8.jpg/htm) art by Vorona1405 

As Aya got stronger then so did Rukia's lessons change: She taught him everything she decided that he needed to know. Some days he would spend hours practising the correct way to pour tea - the way to hold his kimono when he held out his arm; how to dress in both men's and women's clothes; the art of calligraphy he learnt with Fuji who taught him how to paint; he learnt sword care with Tezuka because he really wasn't strong enough to learn the forms yet. He both trusted and admired her because she was strong and brilliant and lovely. When he looked at her he often forgot that she was a tiny thing because she had the ability to fill a room.  
Whilst she trained him she encouraged that he not spend any time with his master, where before they had eaten together to ensure that Aya ate, she now shared her meals with him, and told him far fetched tales of what she had done as a princess from a foreign land in the distant lands of Europe. She told him about France and Spain, about Germany and Italy. She showed him things she had brought back with her and how of the envoy of nearly thirty that was sent only three returned and how sometimes she felt blessed. She told him of the courtesans of Venice whom she had befriended before she realised that they were not the wives of the courtiers. She told him how they were considered the wonder of the western world and how she would train him to be both, to be a Japanese princess and an Italian whore.  
He spent hours with Schuldig and Yohji learning the arts of court, he learnt innuendo and literature in equal measures. He learnt of Crawford's allies in court, and Rukia's for they were not the same. He learned who could be trusted out of honour and who couldn't. He learned descriptions of all the major lords that he could recognise them later. He learned many things but when Schuldig went to teach him go Rukia stopped him. That, she said, Crawford had insisted that he would teach the boy.  
He had, in those days, little time to himself, only through the long walks in the evening with Kimi and Sano, because through it all there was Sano, because Rukia thought it best that he keep his friends and the two of them had been dear friends indeed. Often they didn't talk, just walked along the lakeside with the puppy on a leash and watched the setting sun. Yet for as odd as it seemed, it was comfortable, apart from what he was sure was a pair of avaricious eyes on his back that he knew belonged to his master.  
Crawford had been explicit in his laws concerning Aya, "If you take a lover I will kill them, to remind you that you belong to me. You will make yourself available to me as and when I wish, be that for sex or company." He knew that Crawford would honour that, his prolonged sickness was example enough of that, but he also knew from his teachings, that Crawford was a witty man and Rukia, who adored and loathed him in equal measure, wanted to give him an equal. Aya knew that if Rukia thought that then he must be a fine gentleman indeed, no matter what he had shown to him.  
Rukia was ruthless in her lessons and though Aya might have been hard pressed to admit it, even to himself, it was obvious to everyone else who knew him that he loved them.

He sat quietly cross legged on the cushion of the music room, the room in which Rukia preferred to give him his lessons because they were less likely to be disturbed on the second floor, and wondered why instead of all the usual spectators there was only the servant boy, Ken, who was being equally trained in different ways to be Aya's companion and servant, and the twins. Farfarello sat outside the door. Rukia had a small wooden box on her knee and the most innocently evil smile. The twins on the other hand looked like they might, at any moment, burst into giggles. Despite the cold they both dressed like Nagi in a short kimono that was open around a tight pair of hanzubon and a wrap around their breasts. Their legs were bare and their hair secured in tight tails at the back of their head with silver clips. Where Rukia looked like a child about to reveal some dastardly scheme in which to spend the day- they looked positively dangerous.  
Ken had been stripped to his fundoshi and clutched the table edge over which they had arranged him.  
"I will not call this your last lesson, because you will spend the rest of your life in learning, but this is the last lesson I will directly give you." She smiled to herself. "My husband has been very explicit in how he wanted this lesson to go, hence we have Ken here." Her smile was wicked and cruel, "and we are going to show you how to please him, but you, my dear Aya no bara," she had a way that made it sound like a pet name and insult at the very same time, "can only watch, Crawford was very explicit in that."  
Ken had a rather fine musculature made of years working as a servant for the Takatori in attendance to their son. His skin was a pale gold that came of working in the sun and there was already sweat gleaming in the hollows of his back. He had powerful thighs and well rounded calf muscles. His arms were stretched to show the cords of his biceps but there was a pretty flush on his powerful shoulders and neck. Rukia handed the inlaid wooden box to Maya, and with a bow excused herself.  
"Two pretties from our master," Saya said with a laugh, "he does spoil us."  
"One to play with," Maya added, "and one to watch us, you'd think it was our birthday." Aya knew then why Ken was scared.  
After a quick game of Jan-ken-pyon they decided that it would be Saya who would give the vast majority of the demonstration with Maya explaining what she did. There was gooseflesh forming on Ken's back as Saya pulled him upright. "You must learn to please the master, we will show you what he likes, and what it means to be his chosen, to be the one who receives his love." Maya sounded as if she would burst into laughter. "He says that you do not like to kiss, so we will not teach you that."

Aya stumbled out of the room and without looking fell straight into Tezuka, feeling the heat of his hands, Fuji was just beside him as Tezuka helped him to his feet. "I," he stammered, "Sumimasen," and he took the opportunity to flee.  
He hammered on Crawford's door until Crawford opened the door, "master," Aya gasped, "I, I,"  
"Aya, what is wrong?" Crawford asked leading him into the room. "You look fevered."  
"Master," he stammered, though he had said he would stop calling Crawford that, "I,"  
"you must tell me, Aya, I cannot read your mind."  
Aya bit his lip, but he burned. "I am yours." He said and undid the tie at the front of his kimono, "please, help me."  
Crawford frowned and pushed shut the neck of Aya's simple kimono. "Ah," he said, understanding, "tell me."  
"They," he started, scratching at his neck, trying to release the fire, he wanted something, he just didn't know what. "They tried to teach me."  
"Ah," Crawford said again. "Is it that you want to show me what you have learned?"  
"I," he was leaning forward against the floor on his hands and his knees, leaning towards Crawford, "it burns, and no one can solve this but you. No one can help me but you."  
"You could touch yourself, like they showed you."  
Despite the heat that raged through his body Aya blushed. "You said I could not." He protested, "and…" he lost the words after that.  
"Is that why you want me, so that I can relieve the fire in your belly?" Crawford sounded amused rather than outraged.  
"I," Aya protested, crawling across the floor to Crawford, putting his hands on his shoulders and pushing him back. "Please."  
"You don't know what you want," Crawford said as his back touched the floor, and then with a quickness he turned them over so that Aya was above him, his weight between his legs and Aya arched his hips and rubbed his erection against him.  
"Please." He said, "please, you said that it was the master's responsibility to watch over those in his care, to protect them. Please, help me."  
He was rubbing against him, but Crawford only felt a kind of amusement at seeing the boy like this. He had not Seen it, and he wasn't sure he liked it.  
"Please, master, please."  
Crawford was only human and he took a deep breath of the boy's hair. He smelt of soap and lust and lingering incense, there was also a hint of the stink of sex about him. His hands found the way to the neck of Aya's kimono and yanked it open, undoing his Hakama and pulling them out of the way to bare his erection.  
He wasted no time in preliminaries, because Aya could not have withstood them, he wetly licked his palm and brought it to him. A few quick jerks of his wrist and Aya came with a low cry and then turned his face away. He took a few minutes to collect himself and then gathered his clothes about himself and would not look him in the eye.  
When Crawford reached out to touch his cheek, he jerked away with a muttered "Sumimasen," and clambering to his feet to went the opposite way from the door and pushing against the wall, revealed a passage into the doll room that was his own. Crawford looked at the wall for a few moments in amazement because he had not known the passage was there, but knew that it meant that he could visit his concubine without the whole house knowing and smiled.


	16. Chapter 16

Winter came quickly to the old Fujimiya estate. Of all of them Naoe took the snow hardest, he caught a passing sickness from the cold and under Baba's instructions wore a shinobi's kamen over his face to soften the air. He wore layers of goose fat and herbs on his chest for his weak lungs and was forbidden to leave the house except where absolutely necessary. The twins had taken to bundling him to the bathhouse wrapped in a futon.  
Aya watched this with a calm and rather dry amusement.  
Fuji and Tezuka had come in from the moon shrine with an exclamation that it was too cold to live out there in the winter because with the wooden fretwork the brazier's kept no heat. It meant a rearranging of the rooms although there were plenty. Fuji decided that he liked the doll room because it opened only, to his knowledge, unto the main courtyard and was private from the rest of the house. Protestations that it was Aya's room were met with soft pliable promises and gentle cajoling until everyone involved in the arguing just gave up. Aya had stoically said that he was happy taking one of the other rooms as his own, or even sleeping in the banquet hall with the other servants but Rukia, more than Crawford, was dead against it.  
It was easy to forget that Rukia was so tiny when she got something in her head to work on. With an agenda she was a powerful force of nature, where her brother wheedled, cajoled and even threatened, Rukia dominated. Although she barely reached Crawford's chest even he sometimes gave way to her domineering, though she could cajole as well as her brother.  
She decided it would be best, for the winter at least, the Aya lay out his futon in Crawford's room for several reasons, one it would bond them in ways that Aya's reticence to be alone with him was preventing, and that it would mean less braziers, she herself slept in the same room as the twins and her demon- Farfarello.  
Both Aya and Crawford had protested until Rukia had become this sweet natured little idiot and before they knew what had happened they had both agreed for fear of making her cry. They had done it with the terrible knowledge that they had been completely manipulated and there was nothing that they could do about it.

-

Crawford retired late and often sat by lamplight reading his correspondence whilst Aya lay in his futon, which was on the opposite side of the brazier to Crawford's and pretended to sleep. He lay on his side turned away from the golden light and contemplated the skin of his hands, it was after Crawford retired to his own futon and his breathing settled that Aya could sleep. Sometimes Crawford acknowledged that he was awake to wish him a good night, sometimes not.  
Crawford made no move to touch him, or acknowledge him other than those quiet good nights.  
When they awoke a cold breakfast with steaming hot tea with laid out for them on the small table in the screened off partition of the room beside the door. They shared it.  
"They think we're fucking," Aya said bluntly as he cracked open an egg over his rice.  
"Does it bother you?" Crawford asked sipping his tea, "That they think we are, or that we're not?"  
Aya coloured for a moment remembering the searing pain that had accompanied his first time, but also the terrible dread that he might want to do it again. He wanted to do his duty and he was Crawford's concubine. Since the night that Rukia's lessons had finished neither of them had touched the other. Sometimes, Aya had thought that Crawford might have wanted to, but he never did.  
"Sometimes, master," Aya was always careful to call him that but he was not in any way subservient, "I would like to perform my duty to you, but other times I am scared of it. The servant girls snicker behind my back and when I mention it to the twins or even to Fuji they ask why I don't just strike them."  
"It is within your place to do so." Crawford answered. "You are equal almost to Rukia in this household."  
"I know, but they are just simple girls that do not know better." He answered, "and smacking them would not make me feel better." He offered him a smile.  
"I offered you mizuage and you refused me," Crawford said, "and then driven mad by jealousy I hurt you but did not know that I had, I can see why you are wary of my touch."  
Aya frowned, laying down his chopsticks, "I am confused, master, I hear that sex is something wondrous and you hurt me, you hurt me so much that I thought that I would die."  
Crawford's face had darkened but he said nothing.  
"Then the twins showed me what it was to be," he stopped short of the word, "loved and my body reacted, it was maddening, and as I walked from the bathhouse last night I saw Tezuka and Fuji." Crawford rolled his eyes; it wasn't that unusual a sight. If the two of them thought that they were alone then the innocent touches became gropes and often complete penetrative sex.  
"Fuji thinks you envy him, he thinks that the reason you watch Tezuka is that you desire him."  
"No," Aya exclaimed shock. "I don't, I…"  
Crawford smiled, sometimes Aya was charmingly young. "What do you want, Aya?" he asked him.  
"I don't want this," Aya said with a sigh, "I don't want these feelings and these decisions."  
"Do you know what you're asking?" Crawford said.  
"Yes," Aya said, "I want you to be my master in more than name."  
Crawford almost spluttered on his tea. "You wish to be my pet?" He asked incredulous, "for me to treat you like you treat Kimi, deciding when she urinates and what she eats."  
Aya lowered his head, "yes, master, it must seem silly of me that I wish no more freedom than my dog."  
Crawford sighed, "I've no interest in that." He said sharply, "if you wish to push our futons together I will not stop you, but I will not touch you in passion until you touch me." He stood up, "now if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." And with that he excused himself. He left Aya confused, sticking his chopsticks into the unfinished tamago-gohan he swallowed back his tea and left the room himself.

Fuji liked to practise his calligraphy on the observatory balcony over looking the lake. It gave him a very good view of what was happening whilst being sheltered from the weather. He had a heavy wool shawl about his neck, tied like a cape, to leave his shoulders and arms free. He knelt at a small table and drew delicate designs on scrolls of rice paper as truly he watched what was going on below him. Tezuka was practising his sword work. It was a stirring sight as the tall strong Buchou moved through the katas with sleek beauty.  
"I know you watch him," Fuji said his brushing never lifting from the page as he copied out a long and complicated poem from memory, "most places I go people watch him." His smile was slightly sinister and his eyes narrow. "But at the same time I know that he is mine, and he will never betray me."  
"I," Aya stammered, "I don't want him, I,"  
Fuji laughed, "touch him and I will kill you, he will not betray me but I can feel the weight of your eyes on what is mine and I did not fall out of the empress' favour to be taken over by a boy."  
"I," Aya stammered quickly.  
"Beautiful though isn't he, the way that dangerous things often are." Fuji laid down his brush on the elaborate stand, "he might kill you himself."  
"I," Aya stammered, "I belong to Crawford." The words gave him a sense of peace.  
"I know," Fuji said, tapping a clean brush against his cheek and his smile was innocent, "a terrible dilemma is it not," he tilted his head, "touch him and if the Buchou does not kill you then I will, and if I do not Crawford will, and he will not be as kind to you in murder as he has been in life." He laughed, "there is simply one way to survive this, you must swear to him that you have no interest in him."  
"I don't." Aya protested.  
"Would you prove it? I have nothing to trust to your faith other than that you watch him and I know that you do not share Crawford's lust, I know he sates himself with the twins because you will not let him touch you, is it because you watch my Buchou?"  
"I," Aya protested, blushing brightly, "I have no interest in this," he said, "I,"  
"Will you give me a token of your good faith," Fuji said.  
"I will," Aya said quickly.  
"Then lay out your hand," Fuji said, "your left hand, and I'll cut it off."  
Aya clutched his hand to his chest, "but," Aya protested, "I belong to Crawford, if he gives you leave to cut off my hand then you can do it."  
Fuji laughed, "finally," he said, " a bit of backbone, go to Crawford, tell him that you want him to fuck you, tell him to want him to touch you, tell him that you want to awaken the lust within you, tell him you want him to wake you as a man." He stood up, "but first, turn around and lower the nape of your kimono, there is a message I want to write to him."  
Aya did as he was told, but then Fuji hissed. "Utsukushii to saiai," he said, "that is what he has had engraved on you, but you are cold, you have no idea the gift that you squander."  
Aya left the nape of his kimono lowered as he bowed to Fuji, the deep bow that Shion had told him was for the emperor and left.  
He walked down the stairs and back to the library room where Crawford mostly stayed.  
Crawford sat leaning against the wooden edge of the open door watching the wind in the cherry tree beside the moon shrine. He was thinking. He looked very tall and very strong sitting there like that, a cup of tea in his hand and the brazier to his left. Part of Aya wanted Crawford's strength to blanket him, to cover him and protect him, the other remembered that this man was the one who would avenge his parent's betrayal. The Takatori had sent him to woo this man, to make this man promises on their behalf and he couldn't do it.  
Crawford seemed to barely notice that he was there.  
Part of him wanted to run from the room, to take solace in one of the hidden rooms that he kept to himself, but Lord Fuji seemed to think that he wanted Lord Tezuka when his only memory of such an event had led to a long and debilitating illness.  
"I'd say you were letting the cold in," Crawford drawled, "if I were not sat at an open door myself."  
Aya swallowed and then began to untie his obi, "I want you to fuck me, master," he said, using the words that Fuji had told him to say, "I want you to touch me, I want you to awaken the lust within me you know is there, I want you to awaken me as a man, I want to do my duty."  
Crawford looked at him, really looked at him as if he weighed him up completely with his gaze, "no," he said calmly, "if your lust boils over within you, take care of it yourself, I have other concerns today." Then he turned back to the cherry tree as the wind whipped it.  
Aya didn't bother to tie his obi again, "perhaps, master, it is something that I can help with. My father ruled these lands, and although I am not him, I can try."  
Crawford looked at Aya again, and then he frowned, "these walls have ears, Aya, there is no one here I can trust."  
Aya looked at the floor for a moment, "follow me, master, there are delights of the flesh that I can show you that no other can."  
"I told you, no." Crawford snapped.  
"Master," Aya returned, "I know secrets, such secrets that you would weep to learn them yourself." He was trying to be coy but it did not work like that.  
"Aya, there is nothing you could show me that I do not know."  
Aya leant in against Crawford's ear and whispered. "I know the secrets of this house, we could go where no one listens, I may not please you, but you are my master and I would try to help you."  
Crawford turned and pinned Aya to the floor, throwing one leg over him so he was straddled in place. "Show me," he whispered against his ear, "if we do it like this no one will suspect a thing, they will think that your promises of lust have overwhelmed me and I could not resist you, do not flinch," he said licking a hot wet line up Aya's throat to his ear, "if I touch you."  
Aya nodded as Crawford picked him up, settling his thighs about his hips, "tell me where to go." He whispered.  
"Into the corridor," Aya said as Crawford's tongue found the contours of his ear, "the futon closet at the end, there is a false wall, push me against it and I'll unlock the mechanism." Crawford nodded and buried his face against Aya's neck and carried him, occasionally pushing him against walls for moments as Aya laughed. It seemed to startle Crawford more than the apparent demands for sex had. It seemed that Aya liked this, that he enjoyed it, which baffled Crawford even more.  
At the futon cupboard he slammed Aya into the far wall and Aya laughed even harder, his thighs squeezing about Crawford's back as his left hand fumbled about and then found a knot in the wood of the wall's frame. The wall swung back to reveal a small antechamber and it was only when he had closed and locked the door again that Aya climbed down from Crawford's lap.  
"This," Aya said, "is on the of the secrets of the house, the hidden courtyard and the temple."  
next


	17. Chapter 17

The hidden courtyard was built around a tree tied with thick white ropes and around the base of it was a large uneven mound of thin stone gravestones. There were straw dolls of priestesses pinned to the tree with elaborately carved hairpins, the sort a woman might carry for protection. But high on the tree was a white silk butterfly. The tree was a great cherry tree such as those outside Crawford's door. The branches were bare for winter and it gave the whole courtyard a look of such desolate beauty. The tiny dolls and silk butterfly were fluttering in the wind. "We remember our dead," Aya said and then walked across the raised walkway that ran along all four of the outer walls that protected the tree.  
The wooden panels that enclosed the courtyard were plain thick walls, "I'm not ready to show you all our secrets," Aya said bluntly, "master or not, the Fujimiya always were a little secretive," he looked back over his shoulder, "but it is cold, come with me." Then he offered out his hand, "the walkways are icy, you will have to watch your step." Unlike the rest of the Fujimiya estate this part was left to the weather, the walkways were not polished to a bright sheen, fresh coats of varnish were not put on the walls which meant that the wood had taken on a grainy grey quality that made the place look even more desolate than the tree itself managed. It looked like an abandoned shrine.  
Aya led him past the tree without even looking at it, without explaining the graves or the strange decorations that adorned it, although Crawford had a sudden vision of the tree burning and himself holding Aya back away from it. He wasn't sure if it was a vision or just a figment of his imagination. He knew from it however that the white butterfly pinned to the tree represented Aya, a lost soul amongst sacrificed princesses.  
The door that Aya led him to was carved with the Fujimiya crest and had swollen a little from the weather taking a solid jerk to open it. Inside the room had bright clean matting and large cushions laid out around a great wooden brazier in which a fire roared.  
"This is where you come when you vanish." Crawford said, it was not a question.  
"No," Aya answered, "it's not." He took a deep breath, "my oba-chan was a registered onmyoji, she could see the future in the flames of the mandala," he gestured to the great wooden box in which the fire burned, "we are far from the other rooms in the house, and many walls separate us, this house holds many secrets close, and I can not trust your intentions to this house, if you killed me I would happily let them go to my grave with me, but I know that now you would know where to bury me."  
Crawford closed the door and settled down on one of the vast cushions, it was soft and comfortable, and being large enough to even support his back. "We can talk freely here, I can tell you what I could not before."  
"You are my master but I am still a Fujimiya, my body is yours to command but not my knowledge, not my allegiance."  
Crawford sighed and rolled his eyes, "you enjoy being a martyr don't you, you let Fuji think that you desire his Buchou despite that it's obvious that you do not, you envy his skill and their intimacy, and now you're saying stupid things like I have your body when you deny me it." Crawford pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache, "I can give you such pleasures of the flesh, but you make such strange comments. You anger those who could be such powerful allies, including me."  
"I cannot reveal our secrets," Aya protested.  
"Do you think that's the problem, you are such a child, I know this house has more secrets than you reveal, I could find them out myself if I cared, but it doesn't matter to me, I know about the ways the Fujimiya gathered their wealth and their power. I know more than you think, and I do not care. You interest me not because of your family's secrets but because I think you are lovely, because I want to fuck you, and everyone tells me that you are intelligent and might be able to help me destroy the Takatori, when I myself see nothing but a childish brat who is in love with his misery." Aya lowered his eyes from Crawford, "I hurt you and I will concede it, I didn't realise that Hikarin had such plans to destroy you for the beauty you don't even yet possess. Rukia tells me that you are as wise as you are lovely, but I doubt that I can trust you yet."  
"I didn't have to tell you these secrets." Aya protested, "I didn't show you my grandmother's sanctum for you to insult me."  
"And you didn't tell Fuji that you have no interest in Tezuka because you wanted him to punish you, perhaps even to kill you, and he will."  
Aya stared at the matting, anywhere but at Crawford. "I could hear everything he said to you where I was sat, I am not a fool, Aya, nor do I care to be taken for one."  
"What do you want?" Aya said, clenching his fists as his temper welled up in him for the first time, "you contradict yourself all the time, half the time I don't know up from down, you want me to do this, you want me to do that and half the time it makes no sense." His cheeks were pleasantly flushed in his rage. He looked almost aroused as his eyes flashed in the firelight. "You want me to betray the only people that helped me when my parents died and you give me no reason for it."  
"The Takatori used the rumours about your parents to fund their own excesses, they used your father's loyalty to take money from the Taira," Crawford answered coldly, "they used your family's friendship to extend the debt and then because they had taken the money from the Fujimiya without a contract it appeared that the Fujimiya were the ones with the debt that they could not pay." His tone was even and cold, "Reiji Takatori's machinations included that your family kept secrets, that the Fujimiya were said to descend from Izanami of the house of windowless rooms, that your father would destroy himself rather than accept the shame of an imperial investigation, he knew that if it was that the emperor even suspected that you held rites to her, if he saw the tree you concealed in the hidden courtyard that your entire family would be put to the torch including scions you don't even know of. Although he claims to be godless Reiji was scared of Izanami's wrath, or perhaps more specifically the wrath of her followers, those that live in the hills and trees around this place which is sacred to them, he adopted you both despite your shame and even married your sister to his oldest son, thereby taking your lands as his own, because as a disinherited son you had no worth but she was not disinherited was she?"  
"I don't understand."  
"Of course not," Crawford said through a smirk, "they were kind to you, when really the only reasons that they did not kill you were that Hirofumi prefers the taste of men to women, and that with your colouring you are said to be blessed of Izanami, perhaps even her reincarnation."  
"Then why didn't you kill me?"  
Crawford templed his fingers across his chest, leaning back on the soft cushion. "I am not a backwards rube like the Takatori, I have no interest in either your families lineage or their wealth. I am entitled to neither, nor do I have pretensions to either. I find you very lovely and I will admit that your flesh intrigues mine." His smile slowly slipped from his face, "I see flashes of your brilliance, of the wit that the Fujimiya are known for, but mostly I see a spoiled boy in love with his own despair, and that has no interest for me, if you can be no help to my machinations then take the hair pin that you hold so secretly, but I am not supposed to know of and open those veins of yours, I will not gainsay you, hell, I'll even bury you underneath the tree."  
Aya's fists were so tightly clenched that Crawford thought that the skin of his knuckles would break, "what proof against the Takatori do you have?"  
At least, Crawford thought, that the brat was willing to listen. "Your sister is with the empress to protect her from Hirofumi, he has a boy in court who reveals everything to an associate of mine, you know him, Sohma Hatsuharu."  
"The man with all the earrings and the white hair?" Aya asked.  
"Exactly, he is a scion of the empress herself, but still an Imperial Negotiator, Hirofumi revealed everything to the boy after he spent his wedding night with him, Haru told the empress because she is fond of your sister, she finds her innocence refreshing. Haru's report was taken from Edo to Kyoto and to the imperial negotiators and the ear of the emperor himself. The Emperor heard the report and decided that of all of us that I would be sent here to find the truth of it and then destroying the Takatori, Saijou Takatori was incredibly helpful, he told me how Reiji had planned it contrary to his order and that Shuichi had known and did nothing to help, this was enough for the emperor to order the destruction of their house." He stopped, "Saijou has allied himself to me because he thinks I only play his sons against each other and will therefore promote the claim of his chosen heir, Mamoru-oujo. The emperor has decided that of all of them only Mamoru is to be left alive. There is to be no mercy shown because the emperor liked your father, and even the Taira have stood in their defence. Because I need to be seen to be affiliated with the Taira I have encouraged your friendship with Sano because I know that you are loyal so that I can trust your fidelity with him. Even if he desires you I know that you will not act against me, that if you will not take me to your bed that you certainly will not take him unless I tell you to.  
"But you belong to me, Fujimiya, and if you take another lover then I will punish them, if you take a confidant I will use my influence to have their ear drums pierced, if you show your body to someone else I will cut out their eyes, if someone touches you I will cut off his hand, I alone own you, and only I get the right to look on your beauty, only I get the right to touch you. If you want to be my ally then you will listen to what you hear, you will report to me everything you hear, whether it is Rukia who says it, or just a servant in the side, and you will bring this information to me. We cannot hide like this for long periods of time so you will have to find a way to bring me this information."  
Aya raised his eyes for the first time, his cheeks were flushed with rage in the light from his grandmother's mandala, then he opened his robe and let it fall about his feet, "You said that you would not touch me if I did not touch you first, you came here to avenge my parents, my body is the least of what I can give you." He ran his fingers down his chest, "you have been a good master, if I lie with you then you can talk to me in private, no one will question what we whisper to each other. Do you lust after me, master, do you want my body?"  
"Do not tempt me, boy," Crawford said standing up, "come back to me when you know what you ask for."  
"How can I?" Aya clenched his fists again, "when your rule dictates that none but you can touch me, I cannot even learn of my own body without your eyes upon me, was that not your rule."  
"Then touch yourself," Crawford said, "where I watch you, lie back against that cushion and touch yourself so that I can see." Aya's blush spread from his chest, up the slim column of his neck and over his cheeks, nose and ears, but he did as he was told. "You wish to please me, Fujimiya," the sound of his family name seemed to have an effect on Aya because he blushed even more, "my Aya no bara, then do exactly as I say, without deviation, now use your palms to part your legs ward so that I can see better." Aya did, his cock was sleepily limp against his thigh and the blush was spreading down his entire body. Crawford found it charming. "Lie back further," he said quietly, "as far back as you can, put your left hand in your mouth, bite down on your fingers, I don't want to hear you." His instructions were clear and slightly sinister, "yet."  
Aya closed his eyes; Crawford supposed it was easier that way for him.  
"Shift a little, so that you are as flat as you can get on the cushion." Aya did so that Crawford could see everything, even the ruddy blush between the cheeks of his ass. "Use your right hand," he told him, "and make slow pulls from the base to the very tip, use your palm more than your fingers, take your time."  
Aya did, slowly tugging along his flaccid cock. "Use your left hand, rub your nipple so that I can watch." Aya did, "lick your fingers, then do it, make sure your fingers are wet," Aya's innocence was part of the joy of the show. And Crawford was enjoying the show.  
Aya did what he was told because he simply did not know better, he did not know how to touch himself, how best to please himself, which places he liked to touch best and how to touch them. Crawford manipulated that relentlessly. He saw how Aya obviously wanted to touch harder, to touch faster as his hips raised, almost against his own will, to follow his hand as it pulled and his organ swelled and rose to his touch.  
A gasp escaped him, he seemed surprised, "take your right hand and cup your balls," Aya frowned but placed his hand where he was told, "roll them around, enjoy the feel of them, what do they feel like?"  
"Hot," Aya gasped, "heavy,"  
"What do you want, my Aya no Bara?" Crawford's voice was low and seductive and in the grill the mandala crackled and popped, throwing the colour its light across milk white skin. His nipples were a soft pink such as on a pale new rose, but his erection, rather than being an angry red, such as it might be on anyone with darker skin, but was rather a rich rose colour, like on a sweetened candy. Crawford could see the jumping and rippling of the muscles on his thin stomach. It was a pleasant sight but he still thought that Aya could do with eating more.  
"I want, Master, I want to,"  
"Tell me, Aya, you told me earlier."  
"I want you to let me come, I want, Master, please." His voice was hitching as the fingers of his left hand rubbed first one nipple and then the other with fingers that he stopped to wetten. "I want, master, please."  
Crawford was enjoying the begging but he had no intention of letting the boy give in yet, he was enjoying the dancing of muscles, the way his breath caught unevenly. His own cock was hard and heavy against his stomach, but he was not a boy giving in to the first pleasures of his own hand, he had no intention of rushing this. When the boy was pleasantly sated, when he was lazy and his muscles were lax then he would have the boy touch him with those tremulous hands, or even that nervous mouth.  
"Your left hand, wet it, soak your fingers as much as you can." Aya brought his fingers to his mouth just as he was told, "your right hand, just hold your erection, rub your thumb over the top, spread the wetness, enjoy it, my Aya no Bara, I want to see your pleasure."  
Aya was making half vocalisations, soft noises and there was moue of discontent between his eyes, they were heavy lidded almost closed and his mouth hung open.  
He looked more than good enough to eat, the muscles of his arm pulling as he fought desperately to obey where his entire body wanted him to give in, to move his hand to a quick completion. "You do your duty so well," Crawford crooned to him, "my beautiful boy, my beautiful Aya no Bara," Aya's hips were lifted completely off the cushion, "use your fingers, my beautiful boy, slip your wet finger inside yourself."  
"Master?" Aya was querulous but needy.  
"Give me your hand," Crawford said rolling free of the cushion to kneel in front of Aya, between his thighs so that nothing obscured his view, Aya held out his hand, he stretched out one finger and placed against his ass, rubbed once, then twice and then pressed the very tip inside. Aya arched, "I want to watch you," Crawford said, rubbing his cheek against the inside of Aya's thigh. "I want to watch you touch yourself, I want to see you explode for pleasure and know that my pleasure is from yours." He pushed Aya's finger into the first knuckle, watching the boy arch and sink into it. Aya had gone past words, he was vocalising, and making gasping noises and grunts and Crawford was hard. It seemed the boy liked being watched, and Crawford liked to watch him, because the boy was beautiful and Crawford knew exactly how tight inside the boy was.  
The boy was rocking on his finger, his thumb rubbing the very tip of his cock. "Master," the boy pleaded, "please."  
"What, Aya? Tell me what you want." Crawford's voice was low and raspy, his breath running along the meat of his thighs. He could even feel the stubble of his cheek against the inside of his knee.  
"More, please," Aya gasped, his head falling back and lolling against his cushion, "please, master, more."  
"Tell me, Aya, tell me."  
"I, oh god, master, please."  
"Tell me, Aya, and I will do it, tell me."  
"God, master, I might go mad, please." His hips were high, pushing himself into his hand, bearing down on his finger.  
Crawford took Aya's hand from his ass and wet the second finger then pressed the two of them back in.  
"Master," Aya gasped, "oh god, please."  
Crawford undid the straps of his hakama, "tell me Aya, tell me."  
"Oh god, master, oh please god,"  
"You have to tell me, Aya, tell me what you want."  
"Touch me." Crawford pulled out Aya's hand and pushed his cock against his opening, "master, please." And Aya, driven half mad with lust, demanding and pleading, pressed him inside.  
"Gently," Crawford soothed, softly, "my beautiful Aya, gently, I don't want to hurt you, shush," Aya's head was thrashing back and forth, his hands fallen away from his erection to clutch uselessly at the cushion, then wrapped his arms around Crawford's back, "let me, my beautiful boy, let me."  
Aya did, he let him inside with his muscles relaxing then he began to tug him closer, trying to drive Crawford to sate his lust. His nails were trying to clutch him, with his fingers catching in his haori, pulling, lying naked under Crawford who was completely dressed, the front flap of his hakama released and buried cock deep in his concubine.  
"Please, master," Aya gasped into his ear, "please."  
"Let me," Crawford said, "let me be good to you." So Aya did, letting Crawford slip and slide out of him. He couldn't stop himself arching up to meet him, trying to push Crawford further inside him, because it felt wondrous and new, it felt like the world was ending, and this time, Aya noticed, there was no pain, only need and wanting.  
He threw back his head as he came, his entire body given over to it, his hips jerking and the feel of Crawford inside him become larger and more wondrous, and all the fight slipped from his body, thinking this of all things, was heaven.  
Crawford's ejaculation was a hot wet slap inside him and it surprised him not only how tired he was afterwards but how safe he felt with Crawford's weight pressing him into the cushion, safe warm and contentedly tired, Aya fell asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Aya awoke slowly and languorously across the soft cushion, he was warm and secure and for the first time since his parent's death he felt safe. Crawford sat facing him, with his chin resting on his hands and a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He looked like a predator. He had removed his haori and laid it across Aya like a blanket. Aya stretched, the muscles of his back popping but there was a pain, like a heavy weight between his legs, it was not unpleasant and something that a simple hot bath would ease.  
His skin felt hot, despite a cool sweat against his naked skin, he felt exposed but strangely safe. "Did I sleep long?" he asked, his voice was cracked and querying.  
"No," Crawford said softly, "not even an hour, you seemed to need it, did I hurt you?"  
"No, Master," Aya said gently, pulling the haori over his nakedness, "you didn't hurt me."  
"You know it was not my intention but I could not resist such temptation."  
Aya offered him a cool clear gaze, "we are all simply men." He said, "did I do my duty well."  
"By all the gods, Aya," Crawford said throwing aside a piece of firewood that he had been playing with. It landed with a heavy clatter. "Don't ask if you did your duty, appreciate it for what it was, a good fuck well enjoyed. I worried I might have hurt you because you would not tell me if I had."  
"Yes, master," Aya said standing, flinching at the burning ache between his legs that spoke of poor lubrication. "I enjoyed it, master, and you did not hurt me."  
Crawford frowned, "go take a bath," he said, "then spend the evening as you see fit. Wait for me tonight, and I will show you such pleasures, you can even tell Fuji that I fucked you, that you are a good little concubine."  
Aya's entire demeanour seemed to close off, as he tugged the haori tight about his chest, he could feel cool semen slipping down his the crack of ass and the back of his thighs. "Yes, master." He said.  
"If you are so determined to do your duty, Aya, then go to Rukia and ask her for the lavender balm, ask her also for the bangle of amber, and ask the twins for the lilac oil for your bath, I want you perfumed and waiting for me, I shall want you waiting for me come midnight, I shall leave word with Baba that you are not to be disturbed tomorrow, because you will get no sleep tonight, if you wish to rest do so before you come to me. If you are determined to do your duty then I will happily let you do your duty as much as I want to."  
"Have I displeased you, master?" Aya asked, looking for a moment very young and very vulnerable.  
"Oh no, Aya," Crawford's tone was full of sarcasm, "you pleased me very well, and I would have you please me even more, I will teach you how to please me if that is your desire. I would have a companion, but obviously Aya, you would much prefer to be my concubine. Prepare yourself for my pleasure, but tell me, at least, if I hurt you in my hunger."

Rukia was having her toenails enamelled; she sat on a cushioned bench with her foot extended on the leg of one twin as soft colour was painted on. The other was rubbing a scented oil into her scalp. She was veritably purring. Aya visited her before he went to his bath. He wore his hakama loosely belted and rather than his nagajubon he still wore Crawford's haori. "You wished to see me." Rukia said softly, leaning further back into whichever twin was rubbing her head.  
"My master asked me to fetch things for him, he wished for me to have lilac oil for my bath, an amber anklet, and the lavender balm." Rukia raised an eyebrow over a large dark eye, and then she smiled.  
"Farfarello, bring the boy what he asks for, it seems that his master has plans for him." She sounded amused.  
Farfarello took a deep breath in his nose. "It smells like his master might have already had plans with him." He laughed, it was a chilling sound as he opened a small tansu and lifted out several bottles, which he placed in a box for him, then from a separate chest he took a heavy silver bangle which rattled. "Give me your foot, boy," he said, Rukia just smiled, indulgent to the whims of her elf, "and I shall put it on for you."  
He knelt in front of Aya and grabbed his ankle, lifting it, and then clasped the silver around his foot. It clanked when he moved. Farfarello smiled and leant in across Aya, scenting him like an animal, his hands holding him firm, "the only way to remove such a slave bangle," the elf said in a whispery growl, "is to chop off the foot." He laughed.  
"My master does not care for others to touch me." Aya said but not as firmly as he would have liked, "he would punish us both if he discovered that you touched me." His voice grew more determined as he spoke because he knew it was true, Crawford would punish both of them, Aya might only get a whipping but Farfarello could lose his hand. "I belong only to my master, now get your hands off me."  
Rukia laughed, "look, elf," she laughed, "he has the poise and disdain of a courtesan, haven't we taught him well." She turned with a recline to look at him, "perhaps you should tell my darling husband that I will visit him tonight."  
"By your will, lady, I only do my master's bidding." Aya said with a bow, "now by your will, I would bathe."  
Rukia laughed, "perhaps you should tell my husband that I wish you to join us if I visit him tonight."  
Aya stiffened and then schooled his complexion calmly, "if my master wishes it, I will do my duty. Now I will bathe." He said turning to walk away.  
"Aya," she called to his back, "I have no interest in my husband, at least at this time."  
"As my lady wills," Aya said but he didn't turn back to her. "I will pass on your will to him, for such is my duty."

He poured a measure of the oil into the bath before he undid his robes and stepped up into the water. The scent was soothing and the water was as hot as he could stand it, his skin turning a rich pink around the water before the door opened and he forwent the pleasure of slowly slipping into the water for a quick immersion. "Master Aya," Naoe said from the door, "our master asked me to attend you, Baba has said that the hot water is good for my chest, I am trained to help our master in the bath and…"  
"It's fine, Naoe." Aya said, "I'm sure Baba knows what is best, I don't mind if you share my bath, I used to share my bath with Sano, and Baba was as much mother to me as she is being to you."  
"Did she make you wander around like a Shinobi?" Naoe whined undoing his clothes, "and I smell like a roast goose with this slime on my chest."  
"Yes," Aya said, "and other joys, I had crooked knees. It does help. She is a good woman, strong, powerful, a good woman, if incredibly scary, I used to hide in the same futon cabinets that you do. I feel an equal amount of fear and love for her."  
He climbed up and into the bath. "She caught me running from her." He said, hissing as the water gathered around him, "I thought she'd take my ear off."  
"Changing your grease?" Aya offered him a smile but Naoe did not echo it.  
"Sit," the boy said, "it's easier that way, it works better at easing the ache." Although the boy could have been no older than ten he looked very old at that moment, thin and with a certain pert youth, he looked like a peach fresh off the tree, but at the same time very old and very jaded. There was almost something withered about him, deep within, and he knew that the boy had been in Crawford's service since he was a babe in arms, that although Crawford treated the boy as his own son he was still a servant and he served the best interests of his master.  
Aya was caught between wanting to protect the boy and acceding to his will, between giving himself over to the boy's instruction and stepping between all comers and giving the boy the chance of a normal childhood. "Naoe," he said, "how much influence can a concubine have?"  
Naoe thought about it for a moment, "the emperor has two concubines," he said, "and he honours them and their counsel. I doubt our master would give you such consideration, I am told that all in all you are a lousy lay." The boy's expression was perfectly calm, as if he hadn't ever had an emotion in all his life to try the wide peace of such serenity. He spoke with such adult words from a porcelain perfect child's face. It was like a doll spelled to give off profanities. "You're too shy, you just lie there like a cold wet fish. I have seen maneki neko with more life in them." He laughed and it was a very grown up thing, "at least the master will train you in what he likes." It felt obscene to be lectured in such a thing by a boy, by such an innocent looking boy.  
"He wants you to seduce Mamoru-oujo." Aya answered.  
"And why shouldn't I, I would have bedded him by now except that he has no interest in that yet. I have served my master, I have served my emperor, can you say the same? now turn around so I can wash your hair."


	19. Chapter 19

Aya sat on the floor of the kimono room that adjoined the library that Crawford had chosen as his own. Naoe had tutted and pulled faces at the robes that he was going to wear and eventually just given up and helped him dress. Aya knew that he was being prepared for a seduction, with wax in his hair to make sure it sat perfectly as Naoe painted his face and layered colours upon colours. He had expected that Naoe would dress him less, not more. He had rubbed him down with rough cloth and then oil and then perfumed dust before tying the nagajubon in place. He didn't bother with hakama which surprised him. He used a thin white paste to create an almost mask of colour, much like Hikarin had once done, stopping just shy of his neckline in a delicate shape like a forked tongue. He left a thin line below the hair line but painted clean over his eyes. He used a thick dark purple paste from soft berries and wax that Aya had watched him make, and then used chalk mixed with a pale pink pigment over his eyes. He painted black dots above the line of his forehead. Then when he was happy with the way the face looked, he clipped a silk camellia flower into his hair, long silver chain hung from it. Crawford had insisted on silver when dressing Aya as gold made him wan.  
He wore dark purple, pale silver, off white, cream, dark pink, soft pink and one that was like a silken gauzy mist. He felt almost weighed down by the layers upon layers of heavy silk and the over layer of chiffon that was the colour of butterfly dust. Naoe had left him without tabi telling him that Crawford found bare feet attractive. He did however, enamel his toenails.  
Aya sat waiting for Crawford, he was nervous. He had no idea what awaited him. He was dressed for a seduction, he knew, but at the same time everyone was amazed because Crawford had lain with him that afternoon and they said that he was not a man of great hungers.  
Aya didn't raise his head when Crawford entered. He stood at the door for long minutes just looking at him, then when he crossed the floor he took Aya's head in his hand and tilted it to better appreciate the beauty before him.  
"Turn around." He said bluntly.  
"Terms," Aya said bluntly, "I want to arrange terms."  
Crawford still stood before him for a long moment. "An arrangement?" he asked, "Aya, you were taken from slave status by being in my household, and I have left you with all the honours that a concubine would have."  
"I will be your ally," he said quietly, hoping to discourage listening ears, "but I wish two things, I will cover your wishes to the best of my ability and I will not fight your desires, I will even initiate those things for you, all I ask is that you give me two things."  
"Two?" Crawford asked, "you wish me to be very indulgent."  
"I don't think you will not agree to them." Aya said. "I wish Naoe to be my attendant, you have said many times that you wanted to fetch me one from Edo or Kyoto, I do not see the point when Naoe is trained. It means that he will no longer be whored out, if such is to be done I will take his place."  
Crawford sat down cross legged in front of him. "Done," he said, "although if he wishes to lie with someone and I do not order it it is to be allowed, Naoe is reaching that age."  
Aya agreed to the terms.  
"And the other?" Crawford asked.  
"When the time comes I want to be the one to kill Reiji Takatori, when the time comes I want to be the one to drive my father's sword into his black and treacherous heart."  
Crawford smiled at that, the lamp light reflected off his eyeglasses. "That will not break my heart, though it might be years before I can arrange it." He leant forward to whisper in Aya's ear. "I have to destroy them first, to take all their wealth with only what is left for Mamoru as a lower lord. The wealth that belonged to the Fujimiya, excluding the monies taken from the Taira, will be returned to any child your sister has that is not fathered by Hirofumi, who I am led to believe has not seen his wife since their marriage in Kyoto months ago."  
He reached out and touched Aya's cheek with his palm, "Naoe has made you lovely indeed, my Aya no Bara." Aya leaned into the caress. "Now turn and face the wall." Aya did, "there is a panel there," Crawford said, "Baba alerted me to it, remove that panel." Aya did as he was told and it revealed the doll room, "now softly, tell me what you see."  
Fuji lay with Tezuka on their joint futon, because the whole household knew that if either had been a woman then they would have been very happily married indeed, as such all that they lacked was the law recognising it. Fuji had undone Tezuka's haori and had his hands well into the fabric of his nagajubon and he had his hands firmly around Fuji's ass kneading as they kissed. There was passion there.  
Softly as Crawford had commanded Aya told his lord what he saw, he told him when Tezuka moved his mouth to Fuji's neck and the way that they looked up, and then felt the layers of cloth over his legs and ass lifted up. "tell me," Crawford said dipping his fingers into the small jar of lavender balm and then kneaded Aya's ass just like Tezuka was with his own lover. "Tell me exactly what you see, my Aya no Bara." And Aya did.  
He felt Crawford's fingers along the cleft of his ass and against his anus, pressing in slightly, just enough to warrant a slight reaction, the balm was a great lubricant and meant that there was little effort to the touch. He was still slightly loose from earlier and Crawford was able to slip inside to the first knuckle. Fuji was lapping at Tezuka's nipples, although one hand still kneaded Fuji's ass the other was cupping his fair head. Aya could see the love between them and he said that two. Crawford took that as an opportunity to add a second finger.  
Fuji looked up at his lover with that small genuine smile and almost closed eyes. "Buchou," he said softly and used his own hands to remove his hakama.  
"Crawford," Aya hissed, "I have seen enough to know their intention."  
"So," Crawford said twisting his fingers, "I wish you to watch, I want you to tell me what you see." Aya leant back.  
"They are stripping." Aya said as Crawford twisted his two fingers again, pulling them out only long enough to apply more balm and then slowly slipping them back inside with slow drawn out gestures, "oh, god," Aya said as Crawford fingered his prostate, two fingers flicking back and forth, "the Buchou, he, he has his hand, he, oh god." Aya was rocking back and forth to the fingers. "Fuji, he."  
"Softly, Aya," Crawford chided, "you don't want them to hear you, do you?"  
"I'm sorry, oh god,"  
"Is it good, Aya?" Crawford asked, there was no emotion in his voice, he was calm and even and for some reason that aroused Aya even more. "Tell me, my Aya no Bara, is it good?"  
"It's good," Aya hissed, "it's so good."  
"Do you want more?"  
"Yes, Crawford, please more." Crawford punctuated the use of his name with a twist of his fingers, and then pulled out his fingers, twining three together and slowly slid them back inside. Aya's entire back arched.  
"What are they doing, my Aya no Bara, what are they doing?"  
"Fuji is touching himself, oh, oh god, he's touching himself where you are touching me, he has his fingers inside, oh god, his fingers, they're inside, they're twisting inside and…"  
"What's his Buchou doing?" Crawford asked almost leaning over him, Aya could feel his hardness against his own thigh.  
"he's watching." Aya gasped, "like you're watching me, and he's touching, oh god, he's touching himself too. He's using an oil, oh god, Crawford," he arched his neck drowning in the dual stimulation of what he was seeing and the fingers twisting and thrusting so slowly inside him. Crawford had been right, Aya really had no idea of the pleasures that his flesh could give him, he knew that now.  
"is he hard?" Crawford asked.  
"yes, oh god," Crawford was patting his prostate and then pulling his fingers back, "as hard as you are, Fuji has, ah, he is kneeling over him, he is guiding Buchou inside him, he is beautiful, aah, oh god, and he's flushed, he's sliding up and down, he's fucking him, oh god, like you're moving your fingers, he's fucking him like your hands are fucking me, oh God Crawford, oh god." And with that Aya came, he came only from what he saw and Crawford's fingers buried inside him.  
Crawford pulled Aya into his lap and mouthed his neck. "There's my boy, my beautiful boy." Aya slipped from his knee into a pool of the layers of his own kimono. "Wait one moment, my beautiful Aya no Bara, let me replace the panel."  
Aya lay panting and gasping, as Crawford slipped back into the panel. "I'm going to touch you, I am going to use your beauty as it was obviously meant to be used, I am going to fuck you, Aya, over and over and over again. I am going to use you, and I am going to give you such pleasure that you will wish for death and all I will give you is more pleasure. Now undo your obi."  
Crawford peeled him like an orange, pulling away a layer of silk and then touching his wrists, his thighs where it was pulled open, the line of his neck in his collar, and leaving the silk sprawled around him. Then he removed the next and repeated the soft kisses at the nub of his wrists, the bones of his ankles, the soft palms caressing his thighs, the tongue and teeth that flicked across the cords of his neck and shoulders, even the soft wet kiss on his forehead under his bangs. He did it over and over again through the nine layers of kimono and then the nagajubon, using the very clothes that he wore to arouse him further, and then as he lay there in the well of dark coloured silks he just looked at him. "Tell me," Aya said, "tell me how to touch you."  
Crawford smiled. "Not now," he said appraising Aya for his beauty, "next time, I will teach you to please me, but now the pleasure will be taken from you." He reached into his own hakama and pulled out a thin ribbon and a piece of rope. The piece of rope he laid aside, but the ribbon he stretched out between his hands. "I will offer you a small cruelty, but you must promise, my boy, to tell me if it hurts you. You mustn't let me hurt you, I won't forgive you that."  
Aya nodded and Crawford quickly wrapped the ribbon about his cock, stirring as it was, and tied it into a bow. "This will prevent you coming," Crawford said bluntly, "until I let you." His grin looked like it belonged on Schuldig and not on him. "May I tie you, my Aya no Bara, might I tie this," he took a sash from his nagajubon, it was warm where he had held it against his skin, under his heart, "about your eyes, that you might only feel my touch." And Aya, boneless following the orgasm, just smiled and did his best to lift his head.


	20. Chapter 20

Aya was woken by Naoe moving his blankets back and laying out a tray of hot spiced beef tea and rice balls laid out on the pewter plates that Baba saved for guests. He tried to sit up but his entire body ached. Naoe looked smug. "So how is our little Tayu this morning?" he looked like he would burst into fits of laughter, "or should it be our little A-yah!?" He mimicked quite accurately the way that Crawford had called out his name.  
Aya blushed red even as he reached for the cup. It had not occurred to him that perhaps Crawford had been that loud but the walls in the house were thin and after hours both of them had lost whatever sense of decorum that they might have started with. Naoe rolled up a futon and placed it behind him like a cushion because it was clear he was not in a position to support himself. He sipped the thick tea and looked rather hungrily at the rice balls but lacked the energy to lift them. "Fuji-sama has found some oranges in Baba's pantry, you can have one if you can get out of bed to get it." Aya glared at him because Naoe knew full well that he couldn't move.  
"You're finding this funny, aren't you?" Aya asked into the cup.  
"Yes, actually," Naoe said, taking one of the rice balls for himself. "I'm finding it hilariously funny, you should have seen what you did to the master's back," he laughed to himself, "I think if he had enjoyed it one whit less then Sena might have been taken out for a flogging."  
"And not you?" Aya asked.  
"No," Naoe said fondly, "I am your lily white hands, Ken- your strong back and Sena is your whipping boy. We wouldn't want to spoil that lovely skin of yours would we? Now," he reached into the folds of his oba and laid a small inlaid jar on Aya's futon, "this is for, well," he smiled, "do you want me to apply it, or will you?"  
Aya blushed scarlet to the very roots of his hair.  
Naoe looked predatory as he opened the jar, "believe me, Aya," he said with an evil smile, "I've to clean you and make sure that the master didn't tear you in his urgency."  
"I don't," Aya said.  
Naoe crawled over the futon, "once we've done this," he said pushing Aya back into the futon rolled behind him, "then Ken-Ken will carry you to the bath, but we don't want you hurt, the master has made it clear that you will entertain him again tonight so you are to be prepared. You can sleep in a while, our lovely Aya no Bara." The sound of his laughter lingered even after he had thrown back the blanket over Aya's legs.

Crawford looked at the papers that were set out on his make shift desk by the fireplace in the main room. He didn't want to disturb Aya because he had worked him hard the night before and now he felt slightly guilty. He had done it, not because he had wanted to, although once he had started the hunger that he had suppressed for months had taken over, but because he wanted to punish him in some way – to make the boy understand exactly what it was that he demanded so petulantly. The boy was sweet as spun sugar. He took a sip of the tea and pulled a face, it was cold and sour.  
"Baba," he said to the old woman where she sat mending the wear in some of the maid's kimono, "could I have some more tea?"  
Baba cast her eyes across to the pot of hot water where it hung over the fire, she clearly didn't like that he was in her domain. A normal servant would have dropped what she was doing and pandered on her servant but at the same time this was not a normal servant, this was Baba and she scared him, though he wouldn't have let her know. "Shouldn't you ask your Aya no Bara?" She said.  
Crawford understood then why Baba was annoyed at him. He reached over and poured the dregs of his cold tea into the waste pot and then poured fresh hot water over the dried mint in the bottom of his bowl. "You disagree with how I reacted to his challenge." He said calmly.  
"He is only young," she said biting through the thread that she had been using with a nasty snap.  
"I didn't hurt him." Crawford said, "he has been challenging me to do what I did. Now that I have done that I find it will make him trust me more and I can use him in my machinations as I always intended."  
"Then you don't find him lovely?" She asked, wetting the thread to push it through the eye of her bone needle.  
"How could I not?" Crawford answered calmly, "he is beautiful until he opens his mouth, but he enjoys his suffering more than anything else in this world."  
"He is young," Baba said pulling the needle through the fabric. "and his world has fallen apart."  
Rukia descended the stairs behind him wearing one of Naoe's short kimono's- despite the cold her legs and arms were bare. It made her look very young and very fresh and her eyes were enlarged by cosmetics making them look like the dark heart of spring pansies. Crawford felt the usual stab of thwarted lust that he felt when he looked at his wife. Rukia was beautiful, but she had never been the princess that he had been asked to marry. Once she had sat, like Aya now did, in her well of perfumed silks with her hair sprawled around her. She had smiled at him from behind her ivory fan and he had agreed and bound himself to the mercurial and often cruel House Fuji.  
"My Lady," Baba said looking up from her sewing, "there is hot water if you want tea." She said it deliberately because she wanted Crawford to know just how she was slighting him. She shrugged off the offer and sat down facing her husband, her legs crossed like Buddha showing off a dark blue fundoshi between her legs.  
Before they married Rukia had seemed to be the perfect princess, she had never spoken out of turn, and he wasn't quite sure what it was that she did for the emperor as a negotiator as most of them were large men good at warfare and spy-craft and she seemed to be a silly girl. Now Crawford recognised her as an equal, as an imperial servant to be feared and respected, both with a blade and with her wits. Sometimes he remembered the fondness he felt for that silly girl that had married him, and a dry hunger for the woman she had turned out to be.  
Fuji Syuusuke was feared, he was the empress' calligrapher and his long term lover was her favoured torturer, not because he was cruel but because he was diligent and thorough. Fuji Syuusuke was wicked and cruel and among the kindest people that Crawford had ever known.  
The reputation of the Fuji house was based on the horrors of its men, and Crawford knew it was wrong- it was the women that gave the house it's strength. Yet, at the same time, she was a Fuji through and through, and not a Crawford. She might serve her husband's interests, but on the few times she had, she had done it for herself, her house or her emperor.  
"My father has sent word to me through one of my servants." She said bluntly and Crawford knew why she had sought him out. Only one of the Fuji children, the youngest, even spoke to their father. "He is calling soon, unfortunately I do not know when, Farfarello can protect my dignity, and he will have no interest in you, but my brother and your little pet will need to be out of the house or he might take action."  
"what do you suggest?" He knew that he could trust her counsel, against her father they had been allies many times.  
"You have been openly courted by the Takatori in regards to the Fujimiya problem, but only slightly by the Taira, accept their offer of hospitality, you trust Syuusuke with your affairs, and you know he has no interest in your Aya, but a painting of him between the two lovely Sano boys will give him notoriety in court."  
"And if I don't want to share him like that?" Crawford asked.  
Rukia laughed, "Something as simple as pouring them tea will suffice, their beauty will overwhelm the emperor and then he will protect your beautiful boy from my father, even if he can never touch him. He likes to be surrounded by beauty. It will enrage the emperor if such a beauty finds an accident against his will, my brother is a skilled artist and the three of them are lovely indeed. Aya will look like a rose between two such lovely dark haired boys, it gives an excuse for you to send Syuusuke and takes him out of the reach of my father."  
"Is he still angered with you?" Crawford asked sipping his tea, he did it to control his thoughts, it soothed him and made such machinations easier to work with in his own mind.  
"He believes I am barren." Rukia said calmly. Her smile was naughty and lusty. "It is the best time of the month for me to conceive," she said, "I will visit you tonight. I imagine that your Aya could do with the rest, he was certainly loud enough last night."

Fuji looked at the doll on the table. The doll looked back at him. He had quickly discovered it was impossible to stare it out. He frowned at it with his eyes fully open and tried his best to work on his death glare. The doll stared back at him. Tezuka laughed from where he lay sprawled out over the tatami watching his lover. "If it bothers you turn it around, it's just a doll."  
"I don't like it." Fuji said firmly. "Mitsu, it's evil, defend me." He pouted, thrusting out his lower lip.  
"It's just a doll, Suki, look." He rolled unto his knees and moved across the tatami and picked the doll up. Under the severe black hair the doll's face was strangely malformed but as he lifted it the obi fell away from the layers of elaborate robes. He laid the doll down to reach down behind the small altar that the doll had been sat on to pick it up. Fuji snatched the doll and began quickly undressing it, throwing the robes over his shoulder. "Suki," Tezuka chided, "that's probably a Fujimiya heirloom."  
"It's ugly, and evil looking. I was thinking we could put it in the library tonight any maybe get some sleep without ooh, ooh, aahh, Aaa-yaa."  
Tezuka smiled, it was a small secret smile just at the corner of his mouth as if he wanted to laugh but at the same time had too much dignity or knew perfectly well that it would get him in trouble. Fuji recognised the gesture though. "I'm tired, Mitsu, it went on all night, and then this," he brandished the doll, "was staring at me from sun up. It's got to go." The last layer of kimono fell from the doll and in its place, tied around the doll's stomach, was a piece of parchment. "What's this?" Fuji put aside the porcelain doll, which was heavily etched with kanji in lines all over its body, and unfolded the paper.  
"It's a map," Tezuka said looking over his shoulder, "of the house by the look of it."  
"It can't be." Fuji told him, leaning back into Tezuka's warmth, "look," he pointed out a part of it, "there isn't a corridor there, that's the genkan, isn't it? The only corridor off the genkan is the rope corridor that leads to the main hall, not this one, and this whole bit here," he gestured with his hand to the drawing, "isn't even here, there is no courtyard behind the fireplace room."  
"The house has secrets." Tezuka said with a smile, "maybe we should ask Aya."  
Fuji growled, sandy eyed and out of sorts from having being kept awake all night. "Or we could just go look for ourselves."  
"Or," Tezuka whispered the end of that sentence in Fuji's ear.  
Fuji smiled, "he would be sleeping now." His smile was slightly cruel, "and Rukia said my father was coming, we should use the advantages we have." He lay back on the tatami and then tilted his head to Tezuka's kisses. He frowned and then pushed Tezuka away. "Not here," he said taking him by the hand, "that damn doll is looking at me." Tezuka gave him that small smile at the corner of his mouth again, the one that on anyone else would not be a smile.  
"It is an evil looking thing," Tezuka picked it up again and opened the drawer on one of the tables, "I just wonder why it's covered in tattoos."


	21. Chapter 21

Crawford arranged for Fuji to visit the Taira with as little fuss as he could manage, a cadre of guards were decided upon and it was decided that they would leave within the next seven days. Aya seemed petulant about this important task and so Crawford did his best to avoid him, there was little in his world enticing about a sulking teenage boy, even one as lovely as Aya.  
Aya feeling that he was being sent away, and not doing an important task for his master which it was, had returned to dressing in the elaborate robes of a courtesan, something he only did when he wanted to reassure Crawford that he knew his place.  
Truthfully Crawford found it boring, but Aya was young, he thought to himself, he'd learn, if Crawford didn't lose his temper and kill him outright first.  
Baba was in a foul temper that she said was the weather taking its toll on her old joints but no one believed her. Tezuka had suggested that perhaps it was in reaction to the way that Naoe's chest had started to rattle when he coughed. Crawford knew what that meant, and he was sorry for he genuinely cared for the boy. Tezuka had received a summons to Eto which had made Fuji cranky and he had taken it out on his sister who had in turn taken it out on him, which made him angry. The Takatori had bunkered in for the winter and it looked like the head of the Fuji household would call on them whilst Fuji was away with Aya.  
He trusted Fuji with Aya because he knew that his brother by marriage had eyes for no one but his beloved, and if there were issues about it that he would kill him before touching him in love. He also knew that Fuji would make sure that no one else touched Aya in lust, especially the Sano boy with his hungry eyes. Aya belonged to him alone, and Crawford would brand it into the boy if he ever tried to stray. Beauty was best closeted away to be enjoyed in small doses by a select few.  
He considered the value of Aya's heavily embellished robes and whether it was worth burning them to force him into men's clothes. He waved over Maya and leaning close instructed her to take the robes when Aya was visiting the Taira and to hide them away, possibly send them to Kyoto where he couldn't put them on. He smiled as he pulled her closer, "in fact," he said, "make a gift of them to the Fujimiya princess, from one Aya to another, say that they are from her brother as a show of how well I am treating him. Go with Kudoh to the capital," he thought for a moment, "bring more of the buttery cream Aya does like but also clothes more suiting to a man of my station for him to wear. I would like to see him in navy and black with white tones, and hints of gold, those are the colours that suit him best." He blinked as a vision struck him, catching him quite unawares. He saw a fine house in Kyoto that he did not recognise, with lacquer work on the walls and furniture, he saw a fabulous feast laid out for one man, the Qin ambassador, and he saw Aya dressed as a Qin princess with two Qin children on attendance and Hikarin skulking away to a death in the shadows. He smiled  
"And I have an idea for our little lordling, something that will amuse me, find a Qin seamstress and arrange gowns for him, in bright colours with jewellery to match."  
"A vision, master?" Maya asked. She had known him for more than long enough to recognise the signs of one in him.  
"An interesting one indeed, go, take Kudoh to the capital." The smile crept along his face and he thought again of Aya wooing this man with a strange restraint, the Qin ambassador was a handsome man but this was flirting, and when the ambassador suggested that he might like the pleasures of the two young servants waiting upon Aya Aya told him that it was their choice, that he had been given out against his will and that none in his household would share the same fate. He had said it in perfect Qin.  
Crawford felt the fire in his belly and the hardening of his member and wondered if it was rage, that Aya would confide the details of their first coupling so to a stranger, or the image of Aya in that much gossamer and silk, with a wig upon his head held high with ornaments and dangling jewels.  
He stood up and straightened out the lines of his hakama along his legs, "Master," Saya said from the side, "would you like me to accompany you?" She was sat by the fire with Naoe's head resting against her breast, the boy was drowsy, swaddled up in blankets against the cold.  
Crawford took pity on him, "no, Saya, it is fine, I only aim to take a stroll about the lake."

Rukia met him at the atrium, chasing him down with one of her infernal gowns on, possibly as a ward against the cold. It was a crest of black velvet against her bosoms and shoulders and tight against her stomach. Crawford felt the familiar fire of lust and was a little baffled himself as to who it was for. "Crawford," she called him back, "I would speak to you, husband."  
When she moved it was with the heavy rustle of velvet she had lifted high about her white ankles, she wore velvet slippers against the heavy frost. Crawford could taste the desire and rage in his mouth, like the aftertaste of some heavy meal or spices. "What?" He asked, turning, and for a moment he saw Rukia as something else, with long black hair and laughter in a stone room decorated with patterned wool, among ladies with not a touch of her petite beauty, painted beauties in which Rukia was queen, laughing with them in a room that stank of sex and perfume. He saw in that moment, in that gown, in the way she canted her head, Rukia as she must have been in Europe, among the courtesans of the realm.  
He took a step towards her, and then a second, his hands reaching out to take her jaw between his palms, and kissed her. A few steps and they were up against the steps of the moon shrine, a few more stumbling and they were in the moon shrine and her skirt was around her waist revealing the dark vee of pubic hair and her hands fumbling at his hakama.  
Rukia had always loved to be kissed, and kissed like this, endlessly, with hands pulling her closer to his mouth, even as it's mate fumbled at her skirts, at her bodice, always returning to her mouth.  
She turned him, throwing her head back before returning to his kiss as she welcomed him inside her roughly, without care if he hurt her. Crawford didn't care that he never really wanted this from Rukia, that she was no longer the ingénue he had married, only that she kissed him back as needily as he kissed her.  
Her orgasm caught him by surprise, because normally Rukia needed a lot of foreplay and there had been none and as she moved over him, her skirts rustling and her mouth gasping against his, he had another vision, of her in a similar position with a high ranking Italian lord, of her sprawled and sated in the arms of another man, and Crawford, who had never felt jealous of her before suddenly was, and thrust up into her hard, coming with a small ngh noise.  
After a few long minutes Rukia composed herself, pulling herself away from his mouth with a terrible longing to return, then she licked her kiss swollen lips and rose to her feet, unsteady as her skirts returned to her feet.  
She sat heavily on the wooden bench by the fretwork screen. "Although I must say that was nice, it wasn't what I wanted you for."  
Crawford lifted his lips and did up his hakama as best he could. "Then you can excuse me a moment's distraction, my concubine has been out of sorts and my twins are entranced with Nagi."  
Rukia rolled her shoulders, "I am not complaining," she said and adjusted the thin line of her plait back over her shoulder and down her back, "even if it was a short lived amusement, no, I was going to tell you that I wish to make plans to return to Kyoto after my father's visit, your maidservant," she drawled the word out and it was clear that she meant Baba, "refuses to let me go without your permission, and I have things to do for the emperor that I simply cannot do here."  
Crawford sat up, leaning over his knees. "Go," he said, "I have never restricted your movements and you can tell Baba as much."  
She crouched down over him and gave him another kiss, "I am fond of you, you know."  
He kissed her back, but there was no sadness in him when he answered, "and I of you, perhaps we were too alike to be happy."  
Rukia laughed, "or perhaps, husband, you prefer the way light falls upon a boy." Crawford laughed with her then because after all it was the best joke he had heard all day.

 

Rukia's elf was shadowing him, Aya noticed, he was silent but his shock of white hair and motley meant that he stood out among the other servants and it was not as if Aya was doing anything he needed to hide. He was only barely aware of the man, because he kept close to Rukia and sometimes played with Sena or Naoe but for the most part their paths did not cross in the house. He was simply fetching something with his manservant, Ken, so why was the elf following him.  
"Is he still with us?" Ken asked.  
"Yes," Aya answered calmly, "we cannot tend to the mandala if he follows us this way, one of us will have to distract him."  
Ken bowed his head although the elf scared him, but he was from the area, he knew the importance of the Fujimiya and their mandala and it was possible that having been sent to wait on the Taira that there would be no one to tend it in their absence so they were making sure, if the elf would leave them alone long enough to slip into the secret parts of the house. Ken knew why his lord kept his secrets close, and the secrets of this house were entrusted to Ken simply because he knew the legends of the Fujimiya and he worshipped the old ways as diligently as his master. Many of the families in these parts did, the mountains loomed and the forests were close, things lurked in the woods and in the shadow of the mountains, things the Fujimiya had always kept at bay.  
Now the Fujimiya were a boy and the old princess who lived in the House of Sleep somewhere on the mountain.  
"Master Elf," Aya said turning, because it was his duty to protect those in his care, it was his duty to die with them, "is there a reason you are following me?"  
"I don't follow you, lad," the elf said tilting his head to better appraise Ken, "that one has a strong back, perhaps you would lend him to me for a while, I need a hand with something."  
"Do you promise not to hurt him, because there are rumours about you around the house."  
The elf's laughter was dark and dry. "I will hurt him," he said.  
Aya touched Ken's shoulder as he nodded, "do nothing, you do not want to do, if any speaks out about it send them to me, I may not have much power in this house now, but that I do have."  
And Ken nodded, although he felt like he was being sent to his doom with the white haired elf who watched him so closely.  
He helped the elf move the heavy boxes from the observatory into the storage room through the back stairs and then when he turned he found the elf pressed almost obscenely close against his front, his breath, rank with meat, washing over his face. "You're a comely lad," the elf said, he moved his face so that his cheek was pressed against Ken's and whispered in his ear, "but you should know to beware the wild wood, that fauns lie, don't trust elves," he pressed his thigh between Ken's legs and rubbed up, "and run like fuck from fairies." The elf bit him on the ear.  
Ken pushed him hard managing to get free. "I belong to Lord Aya-sama," he said, though his voice was thick with fear, "ask him if you wish to spend time with me, sir," he closed the door behind him and when he was sure that he wasn't being followed, except by the elf's creepy laughter, he ran.


	22. Chapter 22

Despite the many braziers winter kept slipping into the old Fujimiya house, Crawford found himself writing letters late into the night, huddled around the fire pit with Baba as it was the warmest spot in the house whilst his courtesan bedded down with his two servants, Ken and Naoe. Naoe was between them so that he was in the warmest part of the futon. It was a stirring sight, one that made Crawford feel fond rather than lecherous although he knew that if he wanted he could tumble the three of them at the same time.  
It was a lovely sight, the three heads, one brown, one black and one red tilted together, Ken with his head cast back as if in passion, but with a slight snore and his mouth just open, Naoe had his head tucked down, with a sort of wheezing wiffle noise as he slept, and spooned up against him, face almost buried in Naoe's neck was Aya looking for all the world as if he was made of marble.  
Fuji had sketched the scene, making adjustments to the charcoal as Aya moved his arm or Naoe snuffled and smacked his lips in his sleep. He would ink the picture and include it in those he would send the emperor of Crawford's rose, because all three boys were lovely, Ken had an earthy look about him, with wide strong shoulders that sprawled deliciously over sylph like Naoe who was young and haunted, even in sleep, and then Aya with his porcelain perfection.  
The emperor would love such a gift, and Fuji knowing the emperor well, would likely compose some haiku about their beauty whilst informing him that they were to visit the Taira and that Fuji could not resist the opportunity to sketch such beauty as he found there in the middle of winter. Fuji knew how to win over his emperor, and delivered as they would be by Fuji's own lover, a man the entire court knew that the emperor liked to watch, but not to touch being too old for his tastes.  
When Crawford retired he looked somewhat longingly at the three of them, tucked up and warm in the same futon, Naoe covered with Ken's arm and Aya's leg thrown over him in his sleep. He wondered for a moment if he should join them, and then decided against it, retiring to his own futon on the other side of the brazier and the comfort of his own hand.

When he turned he saw Aya lying facing him with his eyes open just a slit in the darkness, "master?" he asked softly.  
Crawford pressed a finger to his own lips, as Aya slunk from his own futon, slipping off his yukuta as he went, all white long limbs in the moonlight. His hair and eyelashes seemed almost inky, and the tattoo on the back of his neck seemed like it held mysteries. In the moonlight, with the banked light from the brazier, Aya looked magnificent and otherworldly.  
He slipped under the futon and his skin was hot from his own, and his eyes heavy lidded from his sleep. He snuggled into Crawford's chest, resting his face against the crinkling hairs there and yawned. "You looked lonely," he murmured, his eyes closing slightly, then with one hand around his master's waist the other began to creep lower, with a very definite intention.  
Aya's skin was silk soft due to the cosmetics and oils he used to keep it like that, and the dip at the base of his palm, beside his thumb seemed a perfect resting place for Crawford's cock as Aya softly tugged it into life. He lifted the hand that lay over his waist and softly pinched at Crawford's exposed nipple, lowering his mouth to the other and letting the very tip of his tongue play. Crawford bit into his lip, half sure he was dreaming and determined not to wake the other two. Aya wasn't ready for that yet.  
He couldn't help but rub his hips up into Aya's hand as Aya lapped and pinched and pulled. Even the skin of Aya's stomach was silk soft and the length of his fingers ran the length of him, and then Aya bit. Crawford couldn't keep the gasp quiet, and on the other futon Naoe snuffled, almost awoken and then rolled over before Ken pinned him in place. Aya looked up at him with a grin that Crawford wanted to kiss, but when he lowered his mouth to do so Aya turned his face away.  
There was something however in burying his face in the curve of Aya's neck, the smell there where his ear and hair met and the heat of his body in the shared futon and with a muffled grunt into the pressed lobe of Aya's ear he came in his hand. Aya looked at him again with those heavy lidded eyes and grinned his devil's grin.  
His hand left Crawford and he shifted position, pushing Crawford unto his back and straddling his hips brought his cum streaked hand down, past Crawford's exhausted erection, down past his own, further, past his hanging balls, and then pressed up as he bit down on his bottom lip, casting his head back with a muffled gasp. Crawford raised his head to better see Aya fingering himself. He was silently rocking unto his own fingers, one hand resting on Crawford's chest as he did, just for balance and then Crawford brought his hand up, one holding the forearm of the arm he leant on, and the other taking the wrist of the hand he pleasured himself with. Aya looked down and smiled at him, with not a word between them, and let Crawford replace his hand for Aya's.  
His hands were stronger, larger, darker than Aya's his fingers thicker, rougher, callused. They appeared darker in the moonlight, speckled with dark hairs, where Aya appeared to be made of alabaster or milk rising above him like a crest of sea foam. Aya may have looked like he was made of ice but he was hot inside, blistering hot and slick with cum. His erection looked heavy, bobbing between his bouncing thighs.  
When Aya spat in his hand and ran it the length of his returning erection Crawford did his best to stifle the groan and then using that hand he moved Crawford's hand out of the way, pressing the very head of his cock against him before slowly slipping down like he was being impaled.  
Crawford could see the tip of his tongue and the flash of teeth as Aya concentrated on keeping his body straight, of guiding the burning within him, without making a single noise to wake the others. When he was fully seated, Crawford pressed inside him as deep as he could go he took Crawford's hands and moved them to his ass, biting his lip as Crawford began to knead the flesh there.  
His movements were slow and precise as he rocked, licking his lips and biting them in equal measure, his own hands clutched around Crawford's wrists as he guided him up and down, kneading the flesh with sweaty palms.  
Aya came on the down-stroke, head cast back and a spray of spittle escaping his mouth, but he remained silent, eyes screwed shut as he just sat there for a moment, appreciating the shock to his system even as his hips still jerked slightly and the flush spread over him before he disentangled himself, rising slowly as his flesh sucked on Crawford's as if it didn't want to let it ago. He looked around the room to make sure the other two were still asleep before he slid down Crawford's body, licking away the traces of his orgasm before he lowered his mouth to Crawford's remaining erection. Crawford couldn't help but bring his hand to his mouth, to bite on his fingers, so as not to make a noise as Aya first took a deep breath into his pubic hair and then began lapping at the flesh.  
Aya had no talent for this, weeks of training, first with the twins and then with Crawford had given him an idea of what was necessary but no real flair and he never initiated it on his own. He held Crawford's erection in place with his palm and then rubbed his face along it, because he knew Crawford liked that, then he began to lap at the head, like Kimi would lap at unattended toes.  
He started his tongue, just where the head met the shaft and ran it upwards, and then repeated the gesture. His tongue was hot and soft where the air was cool and the sight of him, crouched between Crawford's legs, staring at him over his cock was mesmerising.  
Aya didn't like to take the head in his mouth because it made him gag, Crawford was a little too big for Aya to take into his mouth comfortably but he was eager with his tongue and his loose grip meant Crawford's cock bobbed against his mouth, occasionally slapping against thin wet lips and a sloppy chin. Pressing his fingertips hard just under the crown Aya shifted position and took the very head into his mouth, just the tip and when he released his fingers he moved his hand down to Crawford's balls and squeezed gently. Crawford came biting into his own finger to keep silent.  
He looked at Crawford quizzically as Crawford came down from the high, this was the first time Aya had actually seduced him, and that he had done it with his servants in the room was remarkable, but Aya was a lordling and probably thought nothing of them being there. He had been quiet not because he didn't want them to watch but because they needed the sleep. He rested along Crawford, sticky, sweaty and sated but with no intention to clean them just yet.  
"What was this for?" Crawford whispered softly into his ear.  
"I didn't want you to send me away." Aya answered, nuzzling at Crawford's neck.  
"I'm not sending you away, I'm trusting you as my emissary. I'm asking you to stand in my place." He couldn't see Aya's expression the way that they lay together.  
"I should go back to my own bed," Aya said and went to leave. "I'll just clean us up first."  
"No," Crawford said firmly, "you will stay here tonight, and I want you to wear my stink, I want to wake up next to you and know you smell of my sex. So that when you leave for the Taira house the day after tomorrow you will think of this, that perhaps the smell will linger."  
Aya raised his head and smiled at him. There was a look of mischief about him as Crawford reached up and tucked and eartail behind his ear, "then perhaps we should repeat this lesson," he grinned, "do you think the cage room will be occupied, master, if I fetch the balm you could the oil and we can do this without worry about waking them."  
Crawford grinned back and wanted to kiss that grin but Aya shifted his head so it met his chin, his breath smelling of semen and the stink of sweat and sex all over him, and drops of cum shining in his pubic hair. He'd repeat this lesson, he'd repeat it until the boy couldn't walk.


	23. Chapter 23

Lord Fuji was a tall imposing man who arrived two days after his son left for the Taira estate. He looked at the entire house with a look of disdain before his retinue took over the main hall and decorated it with his own screens and lamps. He wore a stiffly pressed kataginu and a scowl as he looked at his daughter. "Your hair," he said, "were you perhaps afflicted with a fever?"

"No, my lord," Rukia said calmly, kneeling on her cushion with her face implacable and her hands still among the many layers of Aya's kimono. Both Saya and Maya sat at her sides, wearing matching white with the knots on their obi-jime on either side of their waist to tell them apart. In Kyoto they called them they ayakashi aneki because they looked so alike. Most people were intimidated by the two of them, especially when they dressed to distress, but Lord Fuji showed no sign of it.

Crawford sat on his cushion, sipping sake and wondering if he could excuse himself and not be considered rude. The sake was warming his blood nicely enough that he regretted sending Aya to the Taira rather than listen to his father in law's overly formal complaints. Occasionally he would reach unto the table and lift one of the very tiny meat buns that Baba had made for their visitor, but mostly he just listened and drank the very fine sake that the area was famous for.

"Then what reason do you attribute for the abomination that is your hair? You are a princess of the House of Fuji and you wear your hair like a chattel of the sea." Lord Fuiji's face was as impassive as stone. "Tell me, Crawford, do you like your wife's hair such?"

"I do not care how my lady wears her hair, I do not understand why such a thing should affect me, if she wished then she may wear one of the wigs that she brought with her, but I would rather she wore her own beauty than the artifices of the courtesan." Crawford did not care for the Lord of the Fuji house. He had married Rukia at the suggestion of the emperor and he was fond of her in his own way, she could be witty and was brilliant. She was lovely in the manner of tiny things, and just as deadly.

"Only prostitutes and sea bitches wear their hair short, and such a woman should not represent either the houses of Fuji or Crawford." Rukia's youngest brother, Yuuta, said. He had a cross shaped scar on his forehead and lacked either Fuji Syuusuke's pale softness or Fuji Rukia's bird bright beauty. He had hard eyes and a foul turn to his mouth.

"And now so does the princess of the house of Fuji." Crawford said, "she spent months at sea, and then years in Europe at the behest of the emperor, may the goddess shine on him, rather than carry the lice of Italy to Nihon and the court, she cut away her hair. It is growing now, but personally I like the way it sits against her cheek."

"And what kind of husband," Lord Fuji drawled, picking at the ebi on the platter in front of him, "allows his wife to visit such a distant and almost mythical land for such a period of time without him?"

Rukia laughed, "well, my lord, I was hardly likely to stay for a few days now was I?" Behind her Saya and Maya smiled at her wit, and her elf, Farfarello, seemed to bristle. "I was to investigate for my emperor, I do my best for both the glory of the emperor and the House of Fuji."

"It should speak only when it is spoken to." Yuuta said formally, speaking over her. "It should answer only the questions directed at it."

"My wife," Crawford drawled, "is not an it, she is the Lady of House Crawford and pregnant with my child though it is yet to thicken her waist." Rukia only opened her eyes slightly to hide her surprise that she had not known, but at the same time she knew her husband was Onmyoji as much as Negotiator and if he said she was with child then his strange gift had told him.

"Finally," Lord Fuji drawled, "you have only been married for ten years, daughter, though I think, perhaps, that you have spent maybe a whole month in your husband's company."

Crawford laughed, "you have three wives do you not, my lord?" His tone dripped sarcasm, "how do you sleep at night when you do not trust the women who manage your estates."

"They do not manage my estates, they stay in the house under the control of men that I trust."  
"None of my father's wives, or his concubines, are trusted with more than that task for which the gods invented women." Yuuta said in a dark voice.

"And yet," Crawford said, "none of the houses will allow you to marry their daughters no matter how much you offer, even the minor houses will not offer their children." His smile was serpentine and cruel, "and I am reliably informed that even the servants of your estates will not allow you near their daughters." If Rukia had contained her surprise at her impending motherhood she couldn't restrain it at Crawford defending her to the extent of offending a powerful lord.

"At least some of us have interest in their daughters." Lord Fuji said, "and not their sons like some I can mention."

Crawford laughed again, emboldened by the sake which was thick in his throat, "but some of us like both the sons and the daughters, for one must marry where one is told by politics, but one can find pleasure where it is offered." He looked at Yuuta, "of course then it must be offered."  
"Perhaps, Lord Crawford," Lord Fuji said, "the sake that this area is so known for has made you coarse where you intended no insult."

"Perhaps," Rukia said, "my husband reacted only to the insult given to the mother of his child."  
Yuuta sneered, "perhaps it should wait until such a child is born to make that kind of statement."

"She is my lady," Crawford said politely, "this is her third pregnancy, but I have checked the auguries and this child will be carried to term." Rukia went quiet and lowered her eyes at the admission, her father was right Crawford's tongue had been loosened by the sake, she could see the alcoholic brightness in his eyes and the slackness of his tight lips.

"My lord," Saya said, "the hour grows late and such correspondence awaits for the morning as the emperor commands."

"My lord Fuji," Maya said, "allow me to guide you to the room that we have allocated for your retinue."

Lord Fuji drank down the sake in a few quick swallows, before he overturned the cup placing it lip down on the table. "Come, Yuuta," He said standing up, "we shall awaken with the dawn, Aneki," he addressed the twins, "we shall eat in our room tomorrow before taking a constitutional about the lands the Takatori have allotted you." His smile was vindictive this time, "for if you have a daughter, daughter," he sneered at Rukia, "then these lands revert to house Fuji."

"Actually," Crawford said bluntly, "these lands belong to the Fujimiya, the last son of which is bonded to me by oath and fealty, therefore those children born unto my wife have no claim to these lands, only those children born unto either the Fujimiya boy or the Fujimiya-hime." He poured himself more sake, "Farfarello, I realise that you are not mine to command, being the elf of my lady, but perhaps you will stand guard over her father and brother tonight, to make sure nothing happens to them whilst they are my guests."

Farfarello smiled baring a mouthful of sharp white teeth. "By your command," he said in his thickly accented way, "I shan't sleep a wink making sure that they are as safe as my lady's babe."

 

Naoe wanted to accompany Aya to the Taira estate despite the terrible weather, and no amount of coercing, bullying or demanding seemed to be able to make him stay. So Baba was forced, as much by Crawford's seeming inability to deny the boy something he wanted, as Naoe's supposed devotion to his duty to let him go. She did however send him with a tincture for his chest, and many heavy clothes and the instruction, delivered to Fuji-sama with hands on hips and a stern gaze that really should have turned him to stone, that he was to ride in the carriage with them and ideally swaddled in blankets.

If Fuji or Aya had a complaint about being jammed together in the carriage, with the boy between them, they certainly made no mention of it, or at least where she could hear.

Aya fussed over the boy almost as badly as she did, making sure he was well covered and warm, because every time he coughed Aya's heart seemed to stop in his chest and it went on and on and on. The spatters of blood in the handkerchief Naoe did not conceal as well as he thought.

 

The Taira lived in a vast estate called Gifu. At the heart of it, surrounded by lush manicured woodland, was a great castle that was at least six stories high. As they passed over the drawbridge and through the main gate Aya was glad to see the torches lit against both the cold and the dark before he allowed Ken to disembark with Naoe in his arms.

The Joshu, a large thin woman, bundled up against the cold in many layers of kimono, greeted them at the door, with confident gestures, passing Naoe over to the guards to have him bathed, to get some warmth into his bones, because the child had no fat on him at all, and what was Lord Crawford thinking sending him out in this weather, she didn't know, but gaijin will as gaijin are.

It seemed to take moments from the door being opened to them before they were placed around a large brazier with tea being pressed into their hands and food laid out for them. Fuji laid back on the tatami with a self satisfied sigh. "I can't say my arrival to the Fujimiya house was dealt with this," he paused, "quickly."

"They were expecting us." Aya qualified, "Baba is always annoyed when visitors show up out of the forest with no warning. I think she's half convinced that they are youkai or youma, or worse yet she'll have to feed them."

Fuji laughed as Ken warmed a towel over the fire. "Miho, in the kitchens," Ken said a little conspiratorially, "said that Baba had once annoyed the four gods of the wind with her manner."  
Fuji laughed, "I believe it," he said sprawling out as the warmth soaked slowly into his body.  
"The other rumour is that she is the mother of the Horimono-hime and that's why she's demon-blessed."

Aya laughed out loud at that, but Fuji turned on his side to look at Ken without changing his normal mercurial expression. "The Horimono-hime?" He asked, thinking of the strange doll he had found back at the Fujimiya house.

"She's the bride of the demon king," Ken said solemnly, "she is a princess of the Fujimiya, because everyone knows that they're descended from Izanami of the house of Windowless rooms, and she gave up her maidenhead for tattoos so that her husband would know her and she can perform vile sorceries. I've been told," he leant in to whisper although both of them could hear him well enough, "That she takes unwanted children to eat and that you can ask a boon of her but that she sets impossible prices."

Aya laughed, and Fuji followed his example, but Fuji's sounded a little forced.

"She's a priestess," Aya qualified, "she lives in a temple in the woods called The House of Sleep, she does take unwanted children, she finds homes for them, and the boon you mention, everyone knows that she will bless love matches, that she will make it so that when one dies so does the other."

"And the tattoos?" Fuji asked with his mocking smile.

"That's true, that's why they call her the Horimono-hime - the tattooed princess. She's related to me, like a second aunt I think," Aya said, "but I don't think I've ever met her, I know she's not married to the king of demons though, she's just a priestess in an out of the way temple whose faith is marked with ink on her body, that's all. I'm sure lots of regions have legends just like her."

Fuji continued to smile but it was clear he was thinking, what it was, Aya didn't know.

"Ran-nii" the girl enthused, she was heavily pregnant with her hair in loose ringlets and bright red cheeks. She almost caught him in a flying glomp then remembered about her pregnancy and stopped herself.

"Mitsuki-sama." Aya said kissing her on both cheeks like she was his sister, she appeared to be a year or so younger than him, but there was an inner glow and beauty to her. She had huge brown eyes like cherry stones. She looped her arm through Aya's to let him lead her, the other arm she looped through Fuji's without care that she didn't know him.

"Fuji-sama, this is Mitsuki-sama, the wife of Takuto-ouji the heir of the Taira, Sano's older  
brother."

Fuji's smile never changed although Aya was learning to tell his moods apart, Fuji was thinking, he was planning, cataloguing, learning in preparation for something. "Enchanted, my lady, I am a humble son of the house of Fuji, I am Sysuusuke."

Mitsuki beamed at him, staring up at him, because she barely reached his shoulder, "then you will be Shuu-nii." Fuji's smile for a moment looked hard, but then softened.

"An it please my lady." He said, "I am a calligrapher of her imperial majesty's court, might I have the honour of painting you for her, she likes to see the ladies of the realm in case she has call to summon them to Kyoto."

Mitsuki just batted her hand, "I am not the kind of girl invited to Kyoto," she said, "didn't Ran-nii tell you? I was just a singer in a troupe that passed through before Takuto decided he would make me his wife." She looked at her belly for a moment with genuine love before she smiled to herself. "But welcome to Gifu, it's been so long, Ran-nii, so very long, I'm sure you'll be as much home here as you ever were."


	24. Chapter 24

Tai'itsu-kun was the master of Gifu castle in all but name. She ruled over her family, the Taira, with love and understanding and the occasional iron rod. She maintained marriages between the Taira, the Sano and the Nakatsu, the other scion family, with a sort of amused air to keep the Taira's power and wealth whole.  
She stood no taller than Aya's hip, and wore elaborate kimono and headdress to make herself seem much larger and more powerful, but there was not a man in the entire region that would speak out against her. Calling her Tai'itsu-sama, as she was entitled by marriage, would result in a foul temper, and if you were lucky, only a blow to the head from her knobbled cane. She had become Tai'itsu-kun when she had been the fourth wife of the late Taira lord, the grandfather of the current incumbent, and she saw no reason to either change it or back down.  
Her attendant was a woman who stood only barely taller than Tai'itsu-kun herself and had lost her name to years of service becoming Nyan-Nyan in its place. She ran the castle for Tai'itsu-kun and had been caretaker to both Sano and his brother.  
Aya had spent most of his childhood terrified of the two of them, and now, as an adult, he had not changed his opinion much. She was the sort of woman who did not grow older as much as thinner and meaner and constantly wore a scowl as if she was constantly sucking on a lemon. She met them just inside the main hall, climbing to her feet with a great show of age and creaking of bones and a truly dark glare before hobbling over them leaning heavily on her stick. Nyan-Nyan was just behind her; her hair pulled up into two austere knots and her the top of her outer kimono hanging loose at her waist to make her task of beading easier with her arms free of the heavy fabric.  
Aya watched the instinctive flinch from both Ken, who had left Naoe in his futon, and Fuji, who, although they had never met her, both knew women enough like her to fear her. "You are skin and bones," she said reaching up to pinch Aya's arms, "I am surprised Baba let you travel with so little meat on you, and the new servant that this Crawford," she managed to drag the name out into a slur "gave you, not you, Kenken," she said reaching up to squeeze his cheek, "the little one, I am led to believe that he has lungs so weak it is unlikely he will survive the winter."  
"He refused to let me come with out him." Aya told her, chastened.  
"You always were too soft with your servants," she said, and turned around, "but bear in mind, Ran-kun, if he dies on my property he will be buried here, no matter what instructions his owner might have left. It is shameful he let the boy get so ill, I imagine Baba sent him with a tincture and instructions on his care." She was continuing blithely on her own as she crossed the room and went back to the fire pit where she had been working at her own lap loom.  
She sat down with wide legs and a creaking, one hand resting on her thigh to make sure she did not fall over. Aya was only vaguely aware of how old Tai'itsu-kun was, but he did know she was older than Baba, who he considered to have been around at creation when Ameratsu had left the cave. He was also convinced, with the naiveté of youth about such matters, that Tai'itsu-kun had been there when the goddess had entered it.  
She was old, and Aya was terrified of her.  
It seemed, Aya thought, looking around, that Fuji was as well, though he had never met the matriarch of the Taira house before. He maintained his closed eye smile but Aya was learning to read him, his shoulders were tight, and his hands pink from more than the cold. "And you," she said turning to Fuji, "which of the Fuji are you? The deviant," she watched Fuji flinch with a certain satisfaction, "or the older brother?"  
A little of the tension slipped from Fuji's shoulders as he saw the old woman's small smile, "The older brother," he answered, "Fuji Syuusuke, pleased to make your acquaintance."  
"Mitsuki-kun tells me you offered to paint her, I am glad you are the older brother, because I would have had to have the deviant killed."  
Fuji's smile remained closed eyed and mocking, "I'm sure my otouto would be glad that his fame has spread so far." He bowed his head, his tan coloured hair shimmering in the fire light, "even if it is just his infamy."  
"I know a lot about you, too, Fuji Syuusuke, the empress' Calligrapher." Tai'itsu-kun said, "and I must admit that I do not care that you spend as much time as you do with our little Ran-kun. He may be a Fujimiya but close enough to Taira that I consider him one of my own brood." Her eyebrows lowered over her thin watery eyes as she appraised him, "I understand that fate has thrown him in with the imperial negotiator but what is your purpose in the Fujimiya house?" Tai'itsu-kun was not one to wait on formalities.  
"The imperial negotiator, Crawford, is married to my sister, he invited me to the estate that his Aya no Bara," he looked at Aya when he said this, "might understand court, also my sister is there, and I arrived in the company of Tezuka-Buchou who Crawford intends to train his tayu," he said that word deliberately, "in the art of the sword, as I am to teach him in the art of the pen."  
Tai'itsu-kun laughed, a short brittle sound, her hands on her thighs as she leant forward, then coughed and spat into the fire. "Such a slick tongue," she said, "I have no use for flatterers or liars, you are lucky that there is truth in your words or I might cast you out into the snow. Izumi-kun and Takuto-kun are young and might be swayed by pretty words, and I will not be around in House Taira forever, but, I am not so old that I will be swayed by a pair of pretty blue eyes."  
Fuji laughed, his eyes flickering open to show a sliver of blue before he took up his own usual mask. "But Tai'itsu-kun," he said, "such beauty and wisdom could sway a pair of pretty blue eyes even when they are already held by a scowl."  
Tai'itsu-kun laughed out loud, "Do not think, Fuji-san, that because you make me laugh I will forgive you your family's atrocities at court. You serve the empress and I question that, as she is not as loyal to her husband and his house as is proper. She is a Sohma first and Tohma second." She spat into the fire again, with the kind of indulgence that was allowed in the very old.  
"You should have come to us, Aya," she tasted the name and found it displeasing, "we are almost family after all, and instead you have found yourself the bed-warmer of an imperial wolf. I would walk about the veranda," she said, "and you will accompany me, Nyan-Nyan, make sure that all is well for our guest, and his guest," she looked at Fuji, "also, make sure the chiurgeon is available for the boy, it is an ill omen if he expires in our care."

The snow had been scraped back from the ornamental gardens as Aya walked alongside Tai'itsu-kun, she took her time because she was old and he found himself taking three steps for every one of his. "Izumi-kun said that you had cut your hair, you had such beautiful hair." She creaked as she walked, her cane thudding on the wooden floor as she shuffled along under her layers of silk and fur. "I understand that the lie meant that you would not seek comfort here, and I lament that, child," she looked up at him, "but you did not need to whore yourself to the imperial dogs."  
"The Takatori made a compelling case." Aya said sadly, "and I was swept up in grief and rage."  
"Did they hurt you?" She asked, "I cannot rouse the Taira armies in your name, but perhaps three hundred of my personal guards might."  
"Crawford has promised me the head of Takatori Reiji, he found the price for my service." Aya lowered his eyes to look out across the snow covered bushes. "He has been sent by the Emperor to destroy the Takatori, he has not lied to me."  
"But has he hurt you?" Tai'itsu-kun pressed.  
"Once, he brought me a teacher from Kyoto who poisoned me, and him against me, he hurt me, but it was only once and I am assured by his wife and his servants that they would act out against him for it was so out of character. We have come to an agreement." He sighed, "he is honest." He paused again, "he does not push me for the Fujimiya wealth that was hidden from the Takatori, or the secrets of the house. I watch as he destroys the Takatori, I did not know how badly that they had destroyed my family, the treacheries that they wrought in Reiji's greed. Crawford has taken my sister from their clutches without my asking, he does not keep me from her, and he will allow me the revenge. He asks such a little thing in exchange." He blushed a little, "he treats me like his wife, and he does not hurt me in his passion, and is considerate of me. He makes sure I take my pleasure, so is it so terrible a thing?"  
Tai'itsu-kun laughed. "You are doing what every woman is expected to do but without the contract of marriage. Do you think that this Crawford will discard you when you are no longer so beautiful?"  
"I am not beautiful." Aya answered, "his wife called me the Aya no Bara because of the scent of the water with which Baba washed my hair, I am strange looking, Tai'itsu-kun, not beautiful, and I shall honour my family code when I have killed Takatori, once they are destroyed."  
Tai'itsu-kun was silent for a moment, "take your pleasure where it is offered." She said finally, "but know which side of your futon to lie on, and if it comes to doing right by your family's honour remember more than one must be avenged for it."  
Aya's smile was coldly brilliant, "he teaches me so much," he said, "I do not think that he realises that when I have no more use for him that I shall kill him."  
Tai'itsu-kun was silent for a while, "and what shall you do with the boy that is dying in your care?"  
"What choices do I have, I can ease his suffering and slit his throat, telling Crawford that he died here, or I can let him suffer?"  
"What about Rao?" Tai'itsu-kun said, "but can you pay the coin necessary for such a thing."  
"I don't know." Aya said, "and I am unsure if I even wish to pay it."  
"There are other things she can do," the old lady said as she started to walk along, "don't forget she is a Fujimiya too and she was wronged just as you were. She might save the boy to use him to destroy the Takatori." She shivered, "she has sent word that she wishes to see you, I know better than to argue with her, the House of Sleep is nominally on Taira land and we are not so powerful that she could not destroy us if she decided upon it."  
"What about Fuji?" Aya asked, "I imagine Crawford will be angered if he is murdered in his sleep."  
"He might fall from the pass on the way to the House of Sleep." Tai'itsu-kun said. "Use the boy's illness as an excuse to visit her, take Fuji and the boy, Ken, who has his own reasons to hate the Takatori. She is powerful, and she keeps her own counsel, but she might give to you what she would deny anyone else."  
"Can you arrange everything we would need?" Aya asked.  
Tai'itsu-kun smiled. "I am closer to Izanami than I would like, I would neither anger her priestess or her children. I shall arrange suitable tribute and a donkey to bring you there."  
"Do I look so much like her?" Aya asked, "I have never seen the Lady Rao."  
"You could use her face to shave." Tai'itsu-kun said, "now come on, I must retake my place as a Taira and not a Fujimiya, I have been Taira for four generations and younger than you when I left the Fujimiya. I must serve my house, and rule Gifu, even if I too, wish to destroy the Takatori for what they have done."


	25. Chapter 25

"Husband," Rukia said barging into his private rooms, it was not her way to knock and wait like most ladies, or even polite gentlemen, she just walked in.  
She was dressed in hakama but over it she wore a heavy woven wool coat thickly lined in white fur. There were flecks of snow in her hair, suggesting that she had taken a late walk through the estate, she even wore thick wool tabi and her face was rubbed pink by the winter. Her elf stood behind her, with a strange looking cap pulled down over his forehead, behind it trailed a long point for which Crawford saw no purpose, but he had at least removed his boots at the genkan, something Crawford had despaired of teaching him, mostly because the maids were terrified of him.  
"Sometimes," Rukia said standing over his low table, "I am the silly girl you married," she said, then from the fur lined pocket of her coat she pulled a small wrapped package, "I spent a small fortune on these when i saw them, with you especially in mind, and then promptly forgot about them. Enjoy." She threw the package, which was held taut with string, upon the desk where it fell with a low thud.  
"Have you nothing else to say to me this evening?" he asked looking at his wife.  
She paused for a moment, tilting her head, "are you prepared to murder my father?"  
"Not yet, no," he answered, "he still has some value."  
"Then no." She said, "come along, elf, there is much to be done before I leave for Kyoto."  
When she reached the door she looked back, "Crawford," she said, "you will tell me, what you plan, won't you?"  
"I didn't marry you for the Fuji lands," Crawford said.  
"I know," she grinned at him, "but they're such a nice bonus." Her coat was so heavy that when she whirled around to leave it made a shushing sound against the mats like the rustling of pines in the wind. The slow clack as the door shut was strangely man made in comparison.  
Shaking his head at the vagaries of noble women, Rukia in particular, whose will seemed to change with the wind some times, and the loping pace of her elf, who sometimes disturbed even him, he opened her package.  
It was a set of lavishly illustrated sheets of leather stiffened with starch and sugar.  
Crawford laid them out, all seventy eight of them, and smiled to himself. Rukia had assured him that she had no gift to aid her on her way, other than her prodigious cunning, but now and then, Crawford was sure, she could see the future.  
He had Seen these and knew that even if Rukia had ransomed an entire kingdom for them, and they appeared to be hand-painted with gold and other precious metals, that she had not paid nearly enough. In the hands of an onmyoji a set of complete Trionfi, and he knew their name through his studies, were priceless.  
He even knew how to use them because in his visions he had seen them and knew it. With his beautiful concubine in his mind he laid out three cards, The Papess, the tower and the devil, looking at their beautifully etched surfaces he smiled to himself, he couldn't have chosen a better selection if he tried.  
He lifted the deck and shuffled them and brought to mind the Takatori, before he laid out three cards in a triangular formation, the alchemist, death and the world. It was time, he thought, to start to undo the Takatori, and Masafumi was first.

He called his twins and was surprised when they took a small amount of time to answer, and when they did they were dishevelled. The gap in Saya's kimono was open almost to her navel and her obi quickly tied to the left, but Maya's cosmetics were smudged. "Master," Saya asked, "you sent for us."  
"I wondered why I hadn't seen you for the past few days."  
It was Maya who smirked, "Baba had a suggestion about Lord Yuuta and it appears she was right."  
"You have not killed him." Crawford said, it was not a question.  
"Certainly not, master, but he might not sit comfortably for several days." Saya said, "did you call us for a reason? If you wish us to relieve your tension we will have to bathe."  
"No," Crawford said and for a moment he had a vision of milk white skin stretched out before him. "I was going to ask you to watch my guests for I had new things I needed to watch for. I find you are doing this regardless."  
Kudoh knocked and slid open the door, "not interrupting anything I hope," he leered, "but I have news from the Taira estate." From the folds of his haori he pulled a thin folded piece of paper and handed it to Crawford, "it looks like your boy has been delayed."  
"I would prefer you didn't read my mail, Kudoh." Crawford said.  
"I didn't need to," Kudoh said rolling his shoulders, "I can't imagine your boy writing to you unless he was delayed."  
Crawford broke open the seal with his thumbnail, and read it over a few times, and murmured the words "the house of sleep".  
"Fetch me Schuldig," Crawford said bluntly, "and Baba, I have things to arrange."

Baba was squatting cross legged by the fire with a man beside her that Crawford did not recognise. He wore rough cloth and had a piece of fabric as a makeshift bandage around his arm, but his legs and feet were bare. Crawford raised an eyebrow when he saw him. Baba's expression was completely calm as if it was her prerogative to have strange men in Crawford's house and to, he noticed the bowl in the man's hand, feed them with Crawford's food.  
When she saw him Baba raised her head, "ah, master," Crawford knew for a fact that Baba only called him that because she had to, "this is Ryujii from the village, he has news for you."  
"I am busy," Crawford said, "take a note of his complaint and I will deal with it when I have time."  
"There are bandits, my lord," the man stammered, "in the woods, they keep stealing our grain and the money we need to pay tithe."  
Crawford considered his options, he could continue to milk the peasants for the tithe that they were due to pay the Fujimiya which is what ran this house, or he could be munificent.  
"Baba," he said calmly, and then sat down, "fetch me my wife's elf, I think this is a job to which he will be well suited. I am sorry, master Ryujii but my servants will be coming and going as we talk as I have many other things to arrange, but I am sure that the elf will be most for ridding the woods of bandits."  
The man stammered a thank you, "does he have his own army because the bandits are many."  
Crawford's grin slithered across his face, "he is an elf," Crawford said, "and I'm sure that a few armed villagers will be no issue to him, he has complained lately that there is nothing for him to do."  
The man went pale a fact that became more pronounced when Baba led Farfarello into the room, he stood almost half as tall again as she was and wore solid white hakama and pants, his white hair had been scraped back showing his strangely yellow eyes. He had painted his fingernails black with lacquer and he moved like an animal. Crawford noted the reaction even as he took in Farfarello's appearance, and the knives he wore as a bandolier across his chest. There was a chain around his waist that hung along a white thigh and was finished with three hooks. "Farfarello, this is Ryujii, it seems we have bandits in the woods."  
Farfarello smiled as he sat down beside them with the jangling of many knives clattering against his each, "do tell," he said, "I am sure that my mistress will allow me some leisure to take care of this problem."  
"But," the villager protested, "there must be a hundred of them."  
Farfarello smiled, "that will not be a problem." he licked his lips, "I find the natives here to be little challenge, a hundred might mean that I work up a sweat. Master," he used the term like Baba did with a derogatory slant, "perhaps this ningen and I might walk and talk, that I might find out some intelligence about these," he savoured the word, "bandits."  
Schuldig came back in with a flare of bright red hair, "Crawford," he said lounging against the wall, "Baba wants to inform you that you have an invite for a seien with Shuiichi Takatori that you have accepted."  
Crawford swore, there was a terrible irony in that nothing happened for months and then when it did happen it all happened within an hour.

Shuiichi Takatori was the sort of man who hid his intentions behind a thick beard. He sat at the table of his seien with his two lovely wives, Hanae whom he called Manx and Kikuno whom he called Birman, and just stared at Crawford as if by looks alone he could work out the man's intentions. Crawford was used to such scrutiny, and suspected that Shuiichi, unlike his older brother, was intelligent enough to realise the emperor might have intentions towards the Takatori lands.  
"Where is your concubine?" Kikuno asked sipping her sake as a servant girl poured her more, "I haven't seen young Ran for at least a year, I was hoping we might talk, once we did."  
Crawford gave a predator's smile, "he is attending to a small favour for me," he said, "I have asked that he attend the House of Sleep." Watching Kikuno spray sake was worth not knowing what it was. "It is rude not to call on all the landowners of this place."  
"She's the devil's wife." Hanae said firmly, "she will eat his soul."  
Crawford smiled thinking that perhaps finding out information about the House of Sleep might not be as hard as he thought.

Baba explained the House of Sleep to Rukia, because her brother was there, over tea using the ashes in the firepit to illustrate it, the information she gave was what the Fujimiya knew and therefore not quite as distorted as what the Takatori told Crawford.  
The House of Sleep was built on a mountain that was just inside the Taira territory but had traditionally belonged to the Fujimiya, but lack of children had seen their lands dwindle as the Taira grew. At the foot of the mountain was an abandoned village called the Village of All Souls where it was said that the dead rested one last time before climbing the stairs to the House of Sleep.  
Any who called on the House of Sleep would also stay there, because to sleep in the House of Sleep meant that you were damned as it was the gateway to the House of Windowless Rooms, and some said it was like a groundsman's house, making sure that none travelled into the lands of the damned without the express permission of the goddess Izanami.  
Baba admitted she didn't know the truth of it, because in some things the Fujimiya could be tightlipped.  
The house of sleep was built in three rings, the outer ring was where supplicants came to ask favours of the Horimono-hime and had several servants who watched over her before they returned to the Village of All Souls. Those who angered them were submitted to a terrible ceremony called the Kusabi.  
Baba lowered her voice and said she had heard of only one instance of it in her lifetime and she would not speak of it, because she knew that just because she did not understand such a practise she would not anger the gods.  
The second ring belonged to the White Butterfly, white haired children who never grew old and who protected the Sleeping Princess, they had secret shrines within the house and gloried in blood. It was well known that the White Butterfly, of whom there might be as many as four, were mad.  
The last ring was the place where the princess slept and the legend told that if she awoke then the world would cease to be, because this world was the dream of the daughter of Izanami.  
This was the House of Sleep.  
This is where Aya had been summoned, and she did not like it, for it was nothing she could control, but she was sure that Rao-Sama, the Horimono-hime would not hurt him, for they were blood, for only daughters born to the Fujimiya could take such a role, and only those born with the red hair and velvet eyes.  
Rukia was not appeased by such answers, but then Baba's fear receded a little, "her gifts are double edged," she admitted, "and the price is high, but she alone can recognise love." She stood up, "now, do you think that Master Crawford will be back tonight, or not?" she looked around the house, "it's so quiet, I don't like it."  
"I know," Rukia admitted, "it's like a ghost house."  
Baba laughed but it sounded forced.

Naoe looked brighter in the carriage than he had in months, fussing with Aya, making sure that the fur was pulled tight. Fuji did not know what had happened in the seven days that Naoe and Aya had spent in the House of Sleep, all he knew was that the Horimono-hime had been naked apart from a robe tied around her waist and a wolf fur she wore over her head and down her back, the paws covering her breasts, and that she terrified him and he could neither control the fear or understand it.  
"Does he love you?" she had asked and her voice was a whisper, "if he does, if you do not question, and he does not question," she had said, "then give him this," and in her palm she held a golden bead, "and have him swallow it, if it is love, if it is true love, such as the gods envy, then this," the bead glinted in her palm, "will tie you together forever, to live one life and to die one death, but," she closed her white hand with her black nails over the bead, "if it is not love, then this will kill him. The question is not whether he loves you, but whether or not you believe he does? If you have doubts, then keep this." She pressed it into his hand and closed his fingers about it. "Love is it's own price." and then she was gone.  
Aya had paid the price for Naoe's health, and Fuji did not know what it was, but it meant he sat still as Naoe fussed about him, and his eyes seemed harder, no longer like the petals of a flower but like chips of amethyst in a bed of milk, and there was a sour turn to his mouth that had not been there before.  
Naoe was changed too, more solicitous to his duty but more given to long prolonged silences, no longer did he chide Aya about things, he simply adjusted those things he felt fault with, swiping back his hair, making sure the fur was tucked in about his feet.  
Even Ken, who had not ventured to the House of Sleep, was quicker to anger than he had been, and more determined to see the best in things.  
Fuji sighed and wondered if the empty village had changed him too, and if Crawford knew what would be returning to him.


	26. Chapter 26

Tai'itsukun had provided, for their return, a large carriage and a cadre of armed guards but it didn't make their journey through the woods any less perilous. The winter had caused pits and pocks in the road that slowed their progress enough to allow bandits, who lived in the wood year round, to attack their party in the hope of ransom and riches.  
Fuji Syuusuke stared out of the window of their small low carriage and wondered again just how long it would take to get back to the Fujimiya estates and if it might cure the terrible languor that had settled over him. He hoped that a long bath, a good meal and the arms of his buchou would make him feel more at ease.  
Across from him, with his servant Naoe, draped over his knee asleep, was Aya no Bara, and now, since their time in the House of Sleep, he could see the promised beauty in the boy through the scowling and sulking. He had taken on a serene coldness, like the still beauty of a pond, and occasionally he would lick his pale pink lips with the tip of a pink tongue, or blink dark red lashes against marble pale skin. He no longer looked real, but more like the kind of beautiful work of art that was sometimes revealed in the emperor's presence. He kept his own counsel and only made those movements he needed to, such as licking his lips or blinking, but his fingers were twisted in the soft brown hair of Naoe.  
Naoe was swaddled in a white wolf fur that had been draped around Aya's shoulders. Only the Fujimiya were allowed to wear white wolf, and Aya had taken one from the House of Sleep.  
To Aya's left, sat between the hard wood and his owner, sat the servant boy, Ken. Of them all only he had not changed in their time, but he alone had not visited the House of Sleep. He was sat trying to look dignified but in his hands was a puzzle box that Tai'itsukun had given him to occupy his time whilst they travelled. For reasons she kept to herself Tai'itsukun was very fond of Ken and abused her position as head of the Taira household in small ways to give him sweets and toys and reach forward and squeeze his cheeks.  
He was the only person she treated like that, even amongst her own family.  
Sano Izumi had not wanted Aya to go, in fact he had pleaded with Tai'itsukun that they stay another month, another week, another day, but Aya had been determined. Fuji watched the boy follow Aya around like the puppy he had left behind, even as his parents talked openly about arranging another marriage for him.  
The night before they had left he had found Aya standing on the fourth floor balcony and had not known that Fuji had been there, sat behind the door sketching Aya's strangely stiff new posture, and the way his neck was limned against the moonlight like it had been gilded in silver, it rose out of the black kimono like a swan and his stern expression was beautiful. He was beautiful in the way that obake were beautiful, or the players in Noh, but he didn't look real.  
This did not matter to Sano. He had stepped up behind Aya in the night, throwing open the door with the passion of youth and thwarted love, even if he could not recognise it as such. Aya to his credit, ignored him. Sano swept up beside him with all the exuberance of being a youth, if being sixteen and being a spoiled and lovely prince to whom people deferred, perhaps even Aya had, but now Aya was made of ice and stone.  
"You can't go," Sano said, petulant, his head down and his fists balled at his sides, "you belong here, we're almost family."  
Aya didn't move or make a sound to answer him.  
"You can't go back to him, we could protect you."  
Aya turned to look at him then, his hair slicked back to show a vee of perfect skin in the rich navy colour of his shirt. His expression was perfectly still. "I'm going back." He said and then turned his attention back to the gardens around Gifu.  
"Even here we hear tales of what he makes you do, you're a prince of the realm you're descended from gods, and he has you dress like a woman and entertain the very people who betrayed you."  
Aya didn't turn back to answer him. "He can't make me do anything."  
"He won't let you leave the house, he keeps you closetted away like some trinket, polished and brought out to show to his imperial friends, he has no title, no fealty, he married into the Fuji house for reasons no one knows and is seen with his wife, but keeps you for whatever reasons."  
"Hn," Aya said showing he was at least listening.  
"He's an imperial dog, and he uses you like a scrap thrown from his master's table." Sano's brilliant eyes flashed like that in the warm lamplight.  
"And how would you use me?"  
"I would treasure and cherish you."  
"I'm not a trinket to be passed from owner to owner." Aya said calmly, "I am a Fujimiya, and I have my father's strength as well as his sword. I know now what it means to be such, and I have no care to be wrapped in swaddling wool and locked away in some dark room waiting for you to decide upon my use." Sano made a protesting noise, "but it's all moot." Aya continued, "whether you approve or not I am indentured to Crawford, and he is, like all dogs, jealous of his possessions. If he knew of this conversation he would execute you without compunction for coveting what does not belong to you, even though I have made my position with you clear."  
"You weren't always this hard, Ran." Sano said.  
"Aya," he corrected. "No, but then I was only a child."

The carriage rolled to a stop bringing Fuji from his thoughts. Aya's hand curled into a claw in Naoe's hair and the boy's huge blue eyes opened. "Bandits?" Ken asked.  
"Probably." Aya answered. He rolled his eyes and settled Naoe against the edge of the carriage, "I suppose we should help."  
"But," Fuji protested.  
"I am a Fujimiya." Aya said bluntly, "these are Fujimiya lands, and there are many of us and who knows how many of them. It is easier to be protected in the thick of the fighting than having them protect a carriage." Naoe offered a slipping slow smile and from his boot he pulled a sharp little knife. "I am not defenceless, Fuji-sama, and neither are you, so why rely on others to fight for us when we are more skilled than they are?"  
Fuji didn't have an answer for that, so he drew his sword.

Crawford had not expected that Aya would be delivered to him by Farfarello and that the entire party, including one bandit that Farfarello had saved for later, would be covered in blood. There was a dark smear of it along the line of his jaw, rubbed in where he had tried to wipe it away. There was a splash of it across his grey hakama like a wound or a spray of flowers. Baba had stood up, looked at Naoe who had the same strange stillness as Aya and frowned. "Bath," she snapped, "the lot of you. I will make sure the water is run, you can sit there whilst I get some tea into you and you will tell me exactly what happened."  
Aya sat in a motion that was perfectly fluid, if Crawford had not suspected that the boy had changed then that simple, fluid, manoeuvre would have confirmed it. Ken fussed about him, wrapping a stark white fur about his shoulders, and then frowning that he could not do the same for Fuji-sama.  
"Has my Buchou returned?" Fuji asked a little forlornly.  
"Not yet," Baba said as she fetched a cloth from the drawers at the side of the room, she also lifted a pot of unguent in case any of them had any scratches or wounds, although they did not appear to. "And, Crawford," she looked at where he stood at the door to the lamp hallway, "am I supposed to keep the bandit that the elf seems to have saved for a midnight snack? Or do you have other plans for him?"  
"I trust that the house has some kind of prison." Crawford said, glad that his tone did not bely his confusion.  
"Yes," Aya said, "he can be brought there, through the Burial room, through the left door, there is a lock." Baba opened another drawer at this words to bring out the key, "then there is a walkway, at the end of the walkway there are cells, you may keep him there." His tone was cold and icy,and his voice too seemed to have changed, it was now deeper and richer than Crawford remembered.  
One of the guards got up and left to attend to it, taking the key from Baba. It was a bronze key with a red tassel, so Crawford assumed that perhaps there were more keys and more hidden doors around the place. He suspected that this new Aya would only reveal them as they were needed.  
Baba opened the unguent, which smelled thickly and herby, and passed it to Farfarello, "I imagine of it all you need this," then using a scoop of the jelly she wiped at the smear on Aya's face. He didn't move at all but Naoe held out his hands to show the blood on them. Baba frowned as Farfarello smeared it on thickly and quickly cleaned Naoe's hands. "You are looking stronger," she frowned, "and what did that cost you?"  
Naoe offered her a shark's smile but said nothing.

Baba would not listen to Fuji's protests and bundled him into the bath with the rest of them, all but Farfarello whom Rukia had sent for a cold water bucket in the yard. She frowned and closed the door as Naoe was first to climb into the water. He looked lithe and more dangerous naked but before the House of Sleep he looked somewhat like a nymph, something to be cherished and petted, now that same sylph beauty looked dangerous.  
Aya looked icy, but Ken on the other hand just slipped into the water and lifted the soap and with a smile said, "all right, who's first?" as he looked between them.

"Do you know," Farfarello said lying back on his futon as Kudou poured sake into a bowl for him, "young Ken-ken is a virgin." He lifted the bowl and emptied it in a single swallow. "Fuji-sama told me, apparently Aya asked him to keep Fuji company, and he offered him his virginity if he was interested. Of course, you know Fuji is so married," he smirked, his colourless lips showing all the cracks and scars, "he said no, you know that Aya-sama has only one rule for his servants."  
"Really?" Schuldig asked, they had been warned off Aya so he assumed that the same was applied to his servants, both of which were, in his opinion, delectable, and virginity of someone like Ken was a prize indeed.  
"Oh, yes," Farfarello continued, lifting a slice of the fish from the table and eating it with his fingers, eschewing the chopsticks, "Aya-sama insists only that they are willing, that they are allowed to make an educated decision."  
"Well that's something that Naoe has always made." Kudou said with a laugh, "and do you think if Crawford was not so possessive then Aya-sama might be included."  
Schuldig laughed, "I have been his secretary for years," he said, "he gets more possessive as he gets older, I would not even look at the Aya-no-Bara, in case he ripped out your throat with his teeth, look at Naoe and Ken-ken, at least there you might survive long enough to brag about it."  
"Ken-ken is a little peach." Farfarello agreed, "a fresh unplucked peach and those calves, don't you just want to sink your teeth in them?"  
"I bet I could tap it before you." Kudou said with a laugh.  
"And I would beat both of you so that when he tumbled into your futon he called out my name." Schuldig laughed in response.  
"Want to put your money where your mouth is?" Farfarello asked pouring himself more sake, "a silver dragon that I'll be first."  
"I'll meet it." Kudoh said reaching for his pocket, "and you, Schuldig."  
"I'll meet it and happily take your money." Farfarello laid his coin down just after Schuldig, "shall we ask Baba to watch the pot?"  
The other two just laughed.


	27. Chapter 27

The Aya no Bara was sat with his head in a bowl into which water poured and then trailed over into a drain, as his hair was combed. It was a relaxing thing as Naoe ran the comb through his hair. It was still shorter than he had once worn it but now hung loose around his neck, long enough for this kind of luxury. Naoe knelt over him singing softly under his breath because this was as relaxing for him as it was for his master. The water was a zen sound, softly bubbling and warm, running through his fingers as he softly combed Aya's hair. When it grew longer it would take two to comb it like this as it was done in long slow strokes to prevent breakage. It made his hair shimmer and hang like a waterfall. Although it was still short from where Crawford had hacked it away, it was long enough now for a rudimentary top knot.  
Naoe was straddling his hips as he ran the comb through his hair, and Aya was almost asleep feeling the gentle gestures of Naoe's hands and the sexless rubbing of his hips against Aya's stomach. All his life he had had Baba care for him, but now knew he wouldn't swap Naoe for the world.  
Fuji opened the door and came in, "Crawford wants your presence with the interrogation of the elf's prisoner, he thinks that having you there might shake some information loose that might not have come out otherwise."  
Naoe swung off where he rested on Aya's hips and moved to get a piece of soft cotton, which he then wrapped about Aya's hair and pinned in place quickly. "Oh, Naoe," Fuji said with a laugh, "what would it take for me to steal you away?"  
"Become Crawford's concubine." Naoe said tersely. "I belong to him." His expression was completely still.  
Fuji's smile didn't falter even though Naoe's mien was firm and cruel, "ah, but I could pay so much more."  
"I have no use for money." Naoe said softly. He turned to Aya, asking "Would you like me to accompany you?"  
Aya paused for a moment, "actually, I would rather that you helped Ken with Baba's chores." Naoe nodded and as he walked past Fuji, he reached back and pinched Fuji's bottom.  
Fuji laughed, "he's a priceless little demon."  
"Yes," Aya said, but his expression was a still lake, "I would not trade him for the universe."  
"You shared a lot in the House of Sleep." Fuji said, his expression that same mocking half smile, "it gives strange bonds- such magic."  
"I was not with him, his price was his alone." Aya said calmly, "now I believe I was requested."  
Fuji said nothing else as they walked through the house to the prison cell at the end of the hidden walkway.

The prisoner was in the oubliette and was little more to Aya than a head in a hole, but the elf was sprawled against a wall, picking at his teeth with a knife. Fuji took a place beside the door and Crawford stood like a statue. "As I was saying," the elf said, "I think we should use the flechettes, I brought them all the way from Italy and there is nothing for making people talk like a set of flechettes. Peel off a couple of inches of skin, into a flap and then pull, he'll tell us everything he ever knew."  
Schuldig went a little pale. "It is not the way in Nihon," he said, "I know our nature says to poke and prod and pull and twist with sharp implements but in Nihon they are more patient."  
The elf snorted. "If we can crucify our god I say we can disembowel him, he will tell us everything. I will do it if none of you have the stomach for it." He smiled, "pun definitely intended."  
"We can restrain him." Yohji said, "I know the fundamentals, I know the knots, we can tie him and wait for Tezuka."  
"Suspension." Crawford said finally, "we shall suspend him over the pit, so make the knots secure. Are you sure that you can do it, Kudou?"  
Yohji nodded, "I've done it before." He said, and from the shelf behind him took a length of hemp rope, "the hooks and winches are here already," he said, "It should be fine. Elf, will you fetch him?"  
The Elf reached into the pit and grabbed the man, who was stoically silent, by the back of his collar, and dragged him up. "I can make him talk," the elf said quietly.  
"No doubt," Crawford said blankly, "but it is hard to decipher the words when the subject has no tongue and will tell you anything just to stop the bleeding." He looked at the Elf critically, "we'll try it the old fashioned way first, and if he doesn't talk then you can use your wiles, I am not in the mood for blood today, it gets into everything and I rather like this robe."

Fuji stood behind Aya, his chin resting on his shoulder looking at the prisoner. Yohji had bound him quickly and deftly, if not with art, leaving him dressed and twisted into a position, held there by the ropes. "Tell me, Aya-no-bara," Fuji whispered in his ear, "for it is of no consequence to me or to you, what is is that has you so flustered?" He ran his fingertips along the seam in the back of Aya's kimono, "is it the tying? Or the being tied?"  
Aya said nothing and just went to push past him, but Fuji stopped him with his softly mocking closed eyed smile, "just imagine," Fuji said, "the image of yourself bound with brightly coloured ropes, letting the light from the lamps find different parts of your skin to cherish, open and held for his pleasure, suspended like him," he gestured with his head to the man hanging from the ceiling, "a toy for him to play with."  
Aya made a disapproving hn noise.  
"But Crawford's tastes do not run so, if it is your wish, you will have to be blatant." And with a quick lick to Aya's ear, to tease him, Fuji left.

Although Aya did everything in his power to exile the thoughts that Fuji had given him he was drawn again and again to the images of the rope on the prisoner. Shibari was an ancient form of torture. A prisoner was tied into a position his body did not willingly hold and left there, then after several days the bonds were released and he was negotiated into a new position, one equally uncomfortable, but now with the strain of muscles locked into place by inanition.  
Aya had heard, though he had never seen it personally, that men could go mad under the ropes.  
Yet he also knew there were places in Edo and Kyoto where, for a price, a pretty girl or boy could be bound, not as tightly as in torture, for the consumer's pleasure. They had all manner of purposes, he remembered nights giggling with Sano at the thought of a girl bound over and tied to form a low table, or a footstool. He had laughed at the very perversity of it, but had given it no more thought than that.  
Now he found himself laughing again, under his breath at the mere thought.  
For a second he thought of Crawford tied and then, despite that the twins were now looking at him askance, he laughed out loud. Crawford was like a force of nature, he could not be bound by simple ropes, or held in place by knots. The image was ridiculous and he would be sure to share the joke with his master later.  
Besides, he also knew that if he tied Crawford he would have no idea what to do with him, as Crawford had always been the aggressor in their liaisons.  
Then, as he toyed with the tea in his bowl, swirling it around the edges in thought, he imagined himself tied and bound. Naked. There would be a rope around his throat forcing his obeisance, and he would be displayed, unable to stop Crawford doing anything he wanted.  
His cock thickened in his hakama.  
He swallowed his tea angrily and went in search of other amusements.

Ken carried a large bundle of futons for Baba to have them aired in the dry clean air that was rolling across the lake. He bent over to lay them on the table that had been set there before he could hang them over the line. "A nice day for it," Kudoh said from a chair on the lake beach, there was a fishing line in front of him, but he seemed more interested in Ken, specifically in the line of Ken's calves.  
"It is still a bit brisk, Kudoh-san," Ken said politely with a bow, "but the futons do need airing, did you leave yours out this morning?"  
Kudoh frowned for a moment, "certainly," he said "but surely there are other things we can talk about, I mean, both Crawford and the Aya no Bara dominate your time and in all the weeks that we have shared a house I can't remember us having a simple conversation. I barely know you."  
"I'm a servant," Ken said politely, "and you're an imperial messenger. I can't imagine we'd have an awful lot in common."  
"We are both servants, in our way." Kudoh said, standing up so that he showed off his height. "We both serve the same master."  
"You serve the Aya no Bara too?" Ken asked and threw one of the futons over the line.  
Kudoh bit his lip, but quickly composed himself and swept his hair back from his face. He wore a pair of blue eye glasses that covered some of his face had Ken cared to read his expressions. "I serve Crawford," he said, "and I will be going on to Kyoto before the main house arrives there. But I wouldn't mind at all showing you the sights of the city. There are wonders in Kyoto available for anyone with money, and I do have that."  
"It's fine," Ken replied calmly, shaking out the last of the futons, "I don't really have interest in things like that, if I go to the Noh or the summer dances," Ken looked proud that he had heard of these things, because he was just a simple country boy, "it will be to help the Aya no Bara with his tea or candies."  
Kudoh decided to take another tack. "I have some lovely prints." He said, "of things like the Noh, and the summer dances, and some of the most famous courtesans, I can show you if you like."  
"That's fine," Ken answered calmly, "Baba has other chores for me, perhaps later." Kudoh gritted his teeth but said nothing, "but I help Fuji-sama with his prints, I clean the woodblocks for him. I see lots of art that way. He's some funny stories. You could ask him to tell you."  
Kudoh adjusted his hair and then his glasses. "I'll talk to you more when you're not as busy." He told him and then walked back towards the house.


	28. Chapter 28

What astounded Crawford was that despite his injuries Aya had really never looked so beautiful. Perhaps it was the scowl, perhaps it was the bruise that was almost the exact shape of Fuji's geta that brought the side of his face to a bright pink, that was the colour of his lips. Perhaps it was the way his lips were swollen from the blows, or even the broken fingers in the arm strapped to his chest.  
He and Fuji now sat on either side of the mirror in the rope hallway in punishment and Crawford stood with the ropes dangling behind him, to prevent flies infesting the house, trying to decide what he wanted to say to both of them.  
To his credit Fuji was as battered as Aya. There was a piece of cloth that Baba had tied about his head to catch the blood from a cut on his forehead, one of his eyes was forced closed from the swelling on his cheekbone, his arm was broken, and unlike Aya who sat primly on his shins. Fuji's leg was out in front of him with ice from the lake applied upon his knee.  
They didn't look at each other, although Baba had redressed them, their clothes ruined in the fight and the way that she had separated them by throwing buckets of icy water over them. No one else had been able to get involved. Yohji had a wrenched shoulder from getting between them. Schuldig had fetched Crawford who could no more separate them than Naoe, who had been flung aside to bang his head.  
When pressed neither of them, both talking with cotton jaws, was able to say where it had come from but Crawford had his suspicions. After all Buchou Tezuka had been gone for a long time and Fuji was always more irritable without him. Crawford's only theory was that Fuji had started the fight, which had gone on long enough for Schuldig to go to town, to find Crawford, and to return with him for Crawford to try and fail to seperate them and Baba to get two buckets of icy cold water to throw over them. So Fuji, Crawford guessed, had picked the fight and Aya had held his own.  
That on it's own was worthy of note. No one held their own with Fuji. People always thought of Tezuka as the most dangerous of them with a sword, but Tezuka admitted that it was Fuji who was to be feared. Although he was now a calligrapher he too had held a position in the Empress' personal guard and only the very best were given those. But Aya, a boy of seventeen had held his own in a scrap with him. It had lasted without serious damage for it's duration. Aya's broken fingers were those that Crawford had broken before in temper and Fuji had always favoured that knee.  
"When Baba suggested this punishment to me I was going to refuse," Crawford began crossing his arms across his chest. "then I decided if you were going to behave like children you can be punished like children. You will both sit here until after supper, which you will not have, and then I will consider listening to any excuses you choose to offer."  
Under his breath Aya muttered something about how it was all his fault and Crawford wanted to snigger, but could not and punish them. He would have to, later, attend to his concubine and see just how damaged he was now. The bruises would be spectacular against his white skin. Of course he had no intention of punishing either of them worse than this.  
Baba had tended their bruises and their injuries and they were swelling even as he watched. Crawford licked his lips, he had not spent any quality time with Aya since before he had gone to the Taira house for him. Aya looked positively edible to him.  
He had spent time with his wife, before her departure to Kyoto, and with his twins, but he had ignored Aya, because Aya had returned so cold. It had seemed to suit them both, Aya did what he was asked without comment and Crawford used him for minor things about the house and basic correspondence, in fact he had taken a rather large weight off Crawford's shoulders even with such light duties because he knew he could trust him.  
He hadn't touched him in nearly two months. He intended, of course, to check his injuries, because after all he was his property and things could be overlooked but he hadn't until that moment been going to touch him.  
Fuji looked up, "is there anything else, Niichan?" he asked him bluntly, "for Baba has said how long we must sit here, and I would rather get on with things that I might have a bath."  
"You're hard to get on with in this mood," Crawford corrected him. "I will speak to you in the morning, and I will ask Baba to think of another punishment for the two of you. I could have you both flogged for what you did, vassals fighting each other under the eye of their lord." He made sure to thin his lips but he was more amused by their consistent bad temper rather than their defiance. "I could have you both executed, even you, Syuusuke, a prince of the house of Fuji." He narrowed his eyes, "you are blessed that we are so far out of Kyoto that I can be so lenient." He cast his eyes over the both of them, "Aya, can you walk?" Aya nodded but his frown deepened. "You can attend me this evening, now the sky darkens, Syuusuke, you can go to Baba to see if she will let you bathe, or sit in the dirt until morning."  
Aya stood up, steadying himself on the wall, as much from his legs being numb from sitting on them and tried to bow his head but wobbled, falling against Crawford. Crawford looped his arm about his waist and led him through the main hall to the back corridor and into the library past the place where he and Fuji had destroyed the orchard with their fighting. There were still bits of cloth here and there on the broken branches, and there were blood spots on the veranda. He slid open the door and pushed Aya inside. "Undress," Crawford barked out the order.  
Aya whirled and scowled at him. For a moment his lavender coloured eyes seemed hard and flashing fire, but then he stopped, taking a deep breath and his hands went to the tie of his hakama, undoing it quickly and then letting them pool around his socked feet. His legs were an angry red and there was a few scratches and grazes here and there on his thighs, marks in places that looked like fingernails, and quite a few marks that were going to be spectacular bruises over the next few days.  
"I should have you whipped," Crawford said disapprovingly as Aya pulled off his shirt to show even more of the marks, including a rather perfect imprint of fingers on his ribs underneath the thick slime Baba had applied. "Is the rib broken?"  
"No, just bruised, I hit a tree." Aya replied, "and I was under the impression that Sena was to be whipped in my place for such idiocies." There was a look of insolence on his pretty face. As Aya matured he became less and less handsome and more pretty, there would be a point where his beauty would be that of a man's, but at the moment it was still a boy's and his prettiness allowed him luxuries he was unaware of.  
"You hit a tree? Might I guess," Crawford drawled, "that you decided, half way through the fight, to just raise your arm and bump into it."  
"No," Aya answered, "I was thrown, the tree got in the way of my landing."  
"Am I to understand," Crawford sat down on the raised platform in the library and rested his back against the wall, with his legs stretched out in front of him. He wore solid grey, with his hakama a shade darker than his shirt, and a dark blue haori over it. He was still dressed in what he had worn to town. "That there will be problems with the cherries next autumn, the trees don't like such sudden strikes." He sounded amused, removing his glasses and rubbing the lenses on the corner of his haori to clean them.  
"And the water wheel." Aya replied, "Fuji's leg hit it quite badly, I think it might have broken the paddle. Or the bone, there was a distinct cracking noise."  
It was such a perfectly practical answer that Crawford laughed almost despite himself. Ran might have cowered but this new Aya, this Aya that had returned to him from the House of Sleep was not prepared to. For the first time he began to see the potential everyone else had reminded him of. This Aya was an equal, a dangerous young man, where Ran had been a child in love with his own misery. "Are you sure that wasn't your hand?"  
"My fingers were still healing, it did not take much to break them again, master." He said the word with a distinctly sarcastic tone, "Baba thinks that more milk in my diet will help them heal." He lifted his hand, "but Fuji's forearm was hard enough that when I struck him my fingers gave, not him."  
"Shion would be proud." Crawford said, and then gestured that Aya turn around so he could inspect the marks on his back. "You held your own."  
"Barely," Aya admitted, "and only because he didn't expect much of me. I look forward to Buchou Tezuka's return that I might learn with him."  
At that Crawford barely held back a snarl. "Where did he touch you?"  
"Nowhere I did not touch him." Aya replied and went to lift his hakama. "I am tired, and bruised, if you are merely going to be possessive I shall take my leave, I hoped to bathe in the lake to take some of the ache from my bones."  
"I am permitted to be possessive." Crawford corrected him. "After all you belong to me. Set up the go board. We have not played in some time; I would hope you hadn't forgotten such things."  
"We have not played since the first time you fucked me." Aya corrected, but nevertheless, and completely naked, went to the cupboard where he retrieved the board and the two bowls of stones. "I am surprised that you wish to play now, master, and not bend me over the board to inspect that there are no finger marks or scratches in those places that you are so determined belong only to you."  
"I imagine that in your time away you kept yourself amused with both Naoe and Ken-kun. Or did you amuse yourself with Fuji?"  
Aya blinked and nearly dropped the board he carried. "I did not, you were specific in your orders, that none was to touch me, and none did. I have been loyal to our arrangement even if you have not." He stopped for a moment, taking a breath and setting down the board before Crawford, and then, completely naked sat down in front of it. "I have not taken anyone to my bed since the night before I left for the Taira estates. Can you say the same?"  
Crawford looked affronted for a moment, at the concept that Aya might think that their relationship should be monogamous on Crawford's side, then slipping his glasses back on he laughed. "I don't have to," he said, "I am your master, but none have shared my bed, nor my bath, I have been too busy, what release I had I took from my own hand."  
Aya blushed. It was a charming gesture and a reminder that somewhere inside this new icy exterior was the Ran who had hidden in women's clothes. Obviously lost for words he answered "hn."  
Crawford lifted one stone from each pot, then holding them out in closed fists offered for Aya to choose. Aya took the left, and the black stone giving Crawford the first move. He didn't bother with a handicap.

When they played before, Crawford had known that in ten years, maybe, Aya would have been a great go player, he was competent and comfortable around the board but lacked experience. He had made silly mistakes simply because he could not see them coming. Now he took time to ponder each move, shifting where he sat, completely naked, as he contemplated the placement of each stone so carefully that it was Crawford, and not Aya, that noticed he was shivering with cold. Crawford stood up. "If you wanted something to drink," Aya snapped, "you should say so, I am your servant after all."  
Crawford just laughed, lifting the brazier by it's ivory handle and brought it closer to where the two of them sat. "You are cold." He said.  
"I don't need your charity." Aya hissed at him.  
"It isn't charity," Crawford said, shucking off his haori and laying it over his concubine's shoulders. It was warm and slightly gratifying to see the way Aya curled into it and the deep breaths he took. It must, Crawford realised, smell of him. There was a typical response to that, a sort of animal possessive urge, but he damped it down. "You belong to me, to protect, cherish and love, just as Kimi is your pet," he referred to the small chin dog that Aya kept beside him when he worked, "you are mine."  
Aya pulled the haori around his shoulders. "Thank you." He said.  
"Your clothes are damp so there is no point putting them back on," he said firmly, "if you are still cold, tell me, I shall fetch a futon from the cupboard for you."  
Aya narrowed his eyes and for a moment was silent. "It's your turn." he said finally.  
Crawford didn't look at the board before he laid the next stone. "You are still shivering." He said and went to the cupboard, pulling out one of the futons and shaking it out before he wrapped it around Aya, taking a deep breath of his hair. He smelled of lineament and ointment, but lingering under it was the soft scent of lilacs in his hair.  
"Fuji must be cold." Aya said suddenly, "that hallway is chilly at the best of times."  
"I thought you were rowing." Crawford said, tightening his arms about Aya and trying to control his jealousy."  
"We were fighting." Aya corrected. "I have not slept well lately, and I have had an itch that I couldn't scratch, a simple spar ended with bad temper taking control and we fought. He missed his Buchou and was as irritable as I for most of the same reasons, it was the only way that we could scratch our mutual itches." He smiled, knowing and enjoying that Crawford was jealous. "I am not angry with him, he did no more to me than I did to him, we fought, that is the end of that." He turned around so that Crawford's cheek was against his, Crawford's knees against his back, "I was going to ask Naoe and Ken to bed down with him tonight, he does not sleep well alone."  
Crawford stood up with an angry snort, "shall I send him to bed with his supper as well?"  
"If you want," Aya answered calmly turning and running his hand the length of the outside of Crawford's thigh. "This is the closest I've been to you since you sent me away," he said bluntly, "it is a pity I'm so battered that all we can do is play go." Aya's grin turned shark like, "or because I have a friendship that you cannot understand."  
Crawford's hand wrapped around Aya's neck under the blanket and gripped it tight. "You belong to me." He repeated, the jealousy thick on his breath.  
"And yet I have a friend."  
Aya was baiting him, Crawford knew that. The last time Aya had baited him he ended up struck and Aya did it regardless. When he had been baited with Aya he had raped him. He didn't know what Aya wanted. "I shall let him wait out the rest of his punishment around the fire with Baba." Crawford grated out the concession, half worried that he would lose his lover to Fuji, Fuji had an innate cruelty, he would destroy Aya just to get to Crawford for some slight. It didn't matter what one did to Fuji, he did not care, but cross his inner circle and he would destroy you. If he hadn't been part of the Empress' guard he would have been recruited as a negotiator. Fuji would betray his buchou only to destroy another, and Tezuka had been gone for months.  
Crawford made his decision. "We will be leaving for Kyoto presently," he said, "I shall ask Fuji to go ahead to prepare the house for our arrival, with Schuldig, and Kudoh."  
"That changes the bet." Aya answered coldly, and placed his own stone on the board.  
"Bet?" Crawford asked.  
"You have been busy," Aya laughed to himself, "Kudoh, Schuldig, and Farfarello have a bet over which of them will get to take Ken's virginity, I believe the pot is three gold dragons. Of course I'm not supposed to know about it, but Naoe has ears in the strangest places." He continued to smile, happily in control of this conversation. Naoe had always been loyal to Crawford before.  
"Then I shall send all three." Crawford answered, "I wouldn't want to deprive you of your amusement."  
"Believe me," Aya said, "you never do. Send the twins as well, and ask Fuji to prepare those things for me that I asked, he'll know what I mean."  
Crawford narrowed his eyes, "I am fond of Syuusuke," he said using his first name carefully, "and he is my wife's brother, but don't think I won't use some of the more colourful items I found in the bowels of this house when you showed me the prison upon him if you even think to betray me with him. I don't like other people touching what's mine." He grated out those last words.  
Aya just laughed.

When he returned, Aya had cleared away the go board, leaving the game unfinished, and laid out the futon with a piece of old fabric covering it. He had a bottle of oil in a bowl of water over the brazier. It was not boiling but it was clearly to warm the oil.  
"You work too hard," he said and sat, naked but for the haori Crawford had draped over him that he had now slipped his arms through. "Strip." He said bluntly, "you will not work tonight, you will make yourself ill, and I have no intention of being left to Schuldig." Aya's expression softened somewhat, "between us I think he's something of a pervert."  
Crawford laughed and pulled off his clothes, "face down?" He asked. Aya nodded but his face had returned to its impassive mask. Crawford lay on the mat but started a little when Aya crouched over him.  
"I tried to warm the oil," Aya said, "but it will probably still be a bit cold," and then dribbling the liquid, which wasn't quite blood warm, unto his back Aya began to rub in circles. "Don't say anything, just enjoy."  
Crawford could feel Aya's palms and the pressure they exerted, the occasional scratch of nails and the sensation of the bandages on his broken fingers. It was literally pushing the tension out of his shoulders. "You work too hard," he repeated softly, his breath making soft whispers on the back of his neck, "just relax. Trust me."  
"What happened in the House of Sleep?" Crawford asked, his voice was softer than he intended.  
"I learned what it was to be a Fujimiya," Aya said softly, running his hands down Crawford's arms, squeezing just the right amount, "and what it is to be a slave." He laid his lips softly, they were wet perhaps from the oil, on the back of Crawford's neck. "Command me."  
Crawford could feel all the tension and stress vanishing from his muscles under Aya's hands, where had he learned to do this, he wondered as he began to knead the flesh of his ass, turning it in separate directions to maximise what he felt, but never quite hard enough. "Do as you will." Crawford finally managed, the smell of Aya, of ointment and oil and the herbs in the brazier combining to make it so that he was having to work to think.  
"As you wish," Aya said and began to run his hands the length of his thighs.  
After an eternity, it felt, Aya turned him over. And he could see Aya's eyes, the way Aya's tongue peeked out from between his lips, and how he himself was half hard, which shocked him for Aya had done nothing that was in any way sexual. But Crawford had given him that choice to use or abuse as he saw fit. He wondered if Aya was going to provoke him again but decided at worst he could take care of any frustration himself, and the twins had not left yet.  
Aya's hands were softer than they should have been for this kind of massage, Crawford knew that, and that they lingered a little long on his chest but avoided his nipples. "If you're going to touch," Crawford groused, "touch me."  
Aya smiled. He took a small piece of cloth, the sort that he would use to wash his face of an evening, and laid it over his crotch, then sat beside him and began to touch in a much more determined manner, his hands slick and warm from the oil and his nails deliciously sharp.  
First one finger, then another, ran over Crawford's nipple, then his oiled palm, and he pinched softly, smiling but never quite enough, almost but never quite. He ran his finger tips over Crawford's mouth that he could tell that the oil was slightly sweet and tasted slightly of cherries. Crawford wondered if Aya had taken it from Baba's pantry, and if so what had he done with the oiled cherries it had held. Crawford reached out with his tongue to catch Aya's mouth but Aya pulled his hand back. "Just feel," Aya said, "Close your eyes."  
"But I like to watch." Crawford was surprised at his tone for it was almost a whine.  
"As you wish," Aya repeated. "I live to serve."  
He ran his fingernails, slick with oil down to Crawford's armpits, through the scratchy hair there and back to his nipples, surrounded as they were with short dark hairs although his chest was not truly hair there was a line from his crotch that reached up around his nipples. And Aya did nothing else, his hands might dip around Crawford's abdomen, they scratched through his hair but they did nothing else. "By Amaterasu's beard," Crawford managed slamming his head back, "use your mouth."  
"As you wish," Aya repeated calmly without changing his expression.  
Crawford knew that there were slaves in the capital who knew the exact line of obeisance, that they could take some liberties but some were for the master to demand, and wondered where Aya had drawn the line.  
Aya lowered his mouth to Crawford's nipple, licking away the oil with a pointed tongue as their eyes met. He was skilled in this, because Crawford had taken the time to teach him how to do this well, he used lips and teeth and just the right amount of suction as his hands ran along his sides and scratched through his hair. But he did nothing else, he didn't use his hands to help as he switched from one side to the other. He didn't change his attentions from his nipples even as his hands reached up and ran over his mouth and Crawford's erection was clearly tenting the piece of fabric he had lain over him to maintain a hint of propriety.  
If this was what Aya had learned in the House of Sleep then Crawford was torn between bringing all the armed forces he could to burn it to the ground and sending them gifts for this was surely the line between torture and bliss.  
Aya was watching him and when Crawford realised he felt slightly stupid, Aya wasn't watching him for the sexual reaction but waiting for him to command. A slave could be whipped for overstepping the boundaries so he was waiting for him to tell him what to do. It added an extra sexual thrill to the event, even if it had been months since anyone but he had touched himself. He suspected that Aya knew that and which is why he played this game, both of his hands on Crawford and taking his cues from him. This was a game, Crawford knew, and Aya was so battered from the fight that he was trying to do his duty, and Crawford put his hand on Aya's head and pushed him down, over the straining erection. He could play too, even if it was so hard to think.  
"Through the cloth," he said and Aya dutifully looked up and said. "As you wish."  
With his hands on his hips, more to steady himself than to hold Crawford down, he opened his mouth and took the very top of the erection, complete with fabric, and began to gently suck, he lapped at him with the very tip of his tongue.  
Crawford thought he might go mad, this was maddening, because it was almost enough. Aya was not the best at giving head, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and diligence. Aya was being perfectly diligent, not arousing and smiling as he did so, bobbing his head and using his teeth through the cloth.  
As Crawford cried out his hand grabbed about and patted around for the cloth, pulling it away. Aya raised his head, his lips swollen and there was saliva dripping from his mouth. "Do you want to come in my mouth, master?" He asked. "Or would you prefer I finished you with my hand?"  
"Mouth," Crawford snapped.  
"As you wish," Aya repeated and went to work with gusto. He didn't bother with niceties just bobbed his head and sucked, his hand, still slick with oil, finding his balls and cupping them gently as he rubbed and bobbed and Crawford just stared, his mouth open and strange noises escaping him.  
Aya did not stop him when he started to thrust into his mouth, just moved back to allow him, and he could feel himself nudging the back of Aya's throat and even the involuntary gagging. It was enough to push him over the edge as Aya's slick hand travelled between his buttocks and finding his opening pushed inside, just to the first knuckle.  
Crawford came and came and came, most of it landed in Aya's mouth but there was a spray across his chin and chest.  
Crawford just lay there for a long while, boneless trying to catch his breath.  
"Stay," he finally managed as Aya stood up.  
"As you wish." From the cupboard he took a second futon and laid it over his master, then curled up next to him. "Now sleep, let me worry about you for a while."  
"But you," Crawford protested, feeling Aya's erection against his own hip.  
"I'm fine." Aya said, "it will go away. And maybe in the morning I'll be feeling less sore and," he smiled to himself noticing Crawford had fallen asleep. He kissed Crawford's forehead softly and then snuggled down next to him to sleep himself, though it was not nearly late enough.


	29. Chapter 29

As soon as Crawford was deeply asleep Aya rose from the futon and pulled on Crawford's clothes, as he had been told his own were still damp as Baba had not allowed them to dry off before putting on fresh clothes. He made sure to leave the room as quietly as he could and went to the fire pit room where most everyone was eating their supper.  
"Farfarello," he said carefully, "if you have finished, will you accompany me?"  
"Where's Crawford?" Schuldig asked.  
"Asleep, he's had a hard day." Aya said bluntly.  
"You reek of sex." Farfarello said in an equally cold manner.  
Aya didn't bother to answer him.

 

In the bowels of the house, through a hidden door in the burial room and along a long underground corridor was the prison. Most houses of this size had at least one cell, but the Fujimiya house had three, they were called the Mouth, the Stomach and the Bowels, although no one could really remember why. Beyond the three rooms was a great stone door called The Despair but it had, to everyone's notice, never been opened and there were two idea of what it was, one said it was just a carved facsimile of the doorway used for ceremonies that were long lost, others said that it was the doorway to the House of the Windowless Rooms and it had been there since the beginning and it was the reason why the Fujimiya had built their house here.  
Aya had never kept it secret and Farfarello, especially, seemed fascinated by it, but never to the extent of trying to pry the two great stone doors open.  
In the Mouth Crawford kept his prisoner, and tied into an ebi shape and with a rope across his mouth to gag him. "Farfarello, give him some water," Aya said quietly, "because he is going to tell me what I want to know."  
"Does Crawford know of this?" Farfarello asked.  
"I stand here in his clothes as his concubine, do you think he doesn't know?" Give him some water." Farfarello lifted a bowl from the side that was full of water and held it to the man's mouth.  
"Do you know who I am?" Aya asked the man.  
The captive remained silent.  
"My name is Aya-no-Bara who was born under the name Fujimiya Ran." The man's eyes started to look panicked. "You were told that I was dead." It was a statement and not a question. "I know that the Takatori hired you, I know that they told you that I was dead and that my wrath could not fall on you." The man made a gagging sound, "but you know who I am, and you know what I am, do you not?"  
He paused for a long painful moment in which the captive started to squirm.  
"I have just returned from a period of meditation in the House of Sleep." The captive pissed himself. "You are here in House Fujimiya in a room called the Mouth." Aya smiled at the man's obvious terror, "now unless you wish to be cast into the Stomach for one day for Purification, then through the Bowels to cast off the last of your humanity before this elf here," he looked at Farfarello, "throws you live into the Despair for the Creatures of the House of Windowless Rooms to tear into for all eternity. Now, will you tell me what I want to know."  
The man nodded frantically. "I thought that you would." He said with a faint smile. "Who hired you to attack us? Who hired you to harry the Fujimiya lands bequeathed to my master?" Farfarello undid his gag so the man could speak.  
"Takatori," the man stammered.  
Aya backhanded him, hard. "Of course the Takatori hired you, do you not think that I can work that out on my own?" He kicked him, hard. "Now tell me what I want to know and I shall give you to the elf for death, or I will destroy your soul." Aya looked demonic in the flickering light from the torches set on the walls. "Do you know what purification in the stomach is?" He looked at his elf, "You will enjoy this part."  
"First, we put out your eyes, then drive spikes into your ears and cut out your tongue, we sear the meat from your hands and your feet and then we leave you in a pool of your own filth for one night and one day." His tone was calm and even. "Then he move you into the bowels where your entrails are removed and ropes are tied about what remains of your extremities and then are stretched over rails and winches until you are torn apart, then and only then you will be thrown into the Despair and we have many years of experience at doing this, so you will be alive when you take that final leap."  
Farfarello did smile and managed to look quite impressed. "I thought that your people were bloodless."  
Aya shook his head, "we are inventive and cold." He corrected, "and the ropes are a torture indeed, aren't they, all your joints pulled out of socket, it makes the final tearing apart just that much easier."  
"Saijou," the man shouted, "Saijou hired us."  
Aya pushed him aside with his foot, "was that so hard?" He asked, "Elf, he is yours, enjoy yourself." Then he turned and walked away leaving the man to his fate.  
"You said you'd kill me." The man shouted.  
"Oh he will," Aya said over his shoulder blithely, "eventually."  
Farfarello moved over to him, putting his hand on Aya's shoulder. Aya moved quickly, and threw him hard unto the floor. The Elf just laughed and grinned, "I like you much better since your visit to the House of Sleep."  
"I wish I cared."  
"But it gets the blood boiling, doesn't it, a little torture?" Farfarello lay on the floor, "do you think Crawford will be awake when you get back, or what about the peachy little Ken?"  
"I won't take your dragons," Aya answered, "your seduction attempts amuse me too much to spoil the game."

When he returned Crawford was awake, sitting up with his back against the wall and the brazier between them. His look was murderous. "I must admit," he drawled, the firelight reflecting off his glasses, "that using sex to knock me out was ingenious to alloy your tryst."  
"I went to see the prisoner," Aya answered calmly, "I suspected that he had information that you could not get from him. I went with the elf, ask him if you don't trust me."  
Crawford looked him up and down, "and what did you manage to extract from him."  
"It was Takatori Saijou who hired the bandits." Aya said and slipped off the haori letting it pool on the floor, "he has told the locals that I'm dead and the house is in the hands of thieves, they are attacking, believe it or not, in my name." He undid the hakama so that he stood naked in front of Crawford. "If I was planning a tryst I would have drugged your tea, not just given you a massage and sucked your cock." He flicked out his hair with his fingers. "I asked you to rest so you would not make yourself ill, but still you cannot sleep. Would you like me to read to you?"  
"Would you drug me?" Crawford pressed.  
"If it was beneficial for my cause." Aya replied calmly, kneeling before his master.  
"And what is your cause, my Aya no Bara?" he used the full title that Rukia had given him to remind Aya that he was owned.  
"I want to take the people who destroyed my family and kill them all, I want to give back what was stolen to my sister and restore House Fujimiya." Aya answered bluntly, "at the moment you have promised me this so I am prepared to help you with your schemes. I took the information from the bandit, I found out who sent him."  
"And how did you do that, did you fuck him?" Crawford was growling now, jealous and the skin of his neck was flushed.  
"No," Aya replied, "ask the elf, I gave him a choice, either I could use my terrible Fujimiya magic and cast him into the House of Windowless Rooms alive or dead, if he told me what I wanted I'd let the elf kill him, if not, well, he would have called my bluff." His face was completely impassive and without emotion. He looked like a naked porcelain doll, where the only colour in him was the stark red hair on his head, the rest of his body recently shaved. His skin was very white and in the cold forming goose flesh. "I imagine I would have had to drag it out a little more, I might even have killed him myself."  
Crawford leaned forward and caught both of Aya's wrists in his hand and squeezed tightly; pushing Aya unto his side on the crumpled futon.  
"You will learn, Aya, to obey me, eventually." He ran the length of his face along Aya's rib cage, "and that sometimes one must wait to get what you want," then he pushed him away, "sleep with your servants in the main hall. You will not stay here tonight."


	30. Chapter 30

The emperor's court was situated at Kyoto whilst the empress resided in Edo. It was an arrangement that suited them both perfectly. Each had a palace and all the accoutrements of power and met occasionally to discuss the running of the empire. The Empress had done her duty and provided him with two sons who were happily being raised far from both of them.

Aya-no-bara pressed his face to the mat before his emperor and could not bear to look at him. He was sat upon a great throne from which scented steam emerged and silk blankets were wrapped around him. His nose was pink and he snuffled often for one of the maidens beside him to wipe at his nose. There was a thick woolen blanket wrapped around his head. "Onmyoji Crawford, it is good to see you returned to me." He said through a headfull of cold.

"Heika," Crawford said, bowing his head. It was customary in the presence of the Emperor to kneel with one's forehead pressed to the floor between one's palms, but Crawford knelt comfortably. "I am honoured by your request to see me." He made no mention of the obviously terrible cold that the emperor was suffering with.

"It has been several months since you went to negotiate for me between the Takatori and the Taira, perhaps you have news for me."

"I do, Heika," Crawford said smugly. "This is the boy Fujimiya you asked me to take into my custody, and it was done so legally by the largesse of the Elder Takatori son. As you can see he is well." The emperor nodded his blonde head, "and it has been arranged that he have supper with the Qin ambassador this evening, in fact, preparations for this are being made as we speak."

"And the point of this?"

Crawford's smile was cruel, "Takatori Masafumi is an acquaintance of the ambassador but owes him a large sum of money, in the nature of five kikou," this was enough to feed five people for one year comfortably, "the ambassador realises that there is little chance he can ask for the money back without risking an international incident he has no interest in pursuing, he cannot act against Takatori without it being seen as an act of Qin agression, which is what Takatori relied upon when he borrowed the money. I am led to believe by my sources that that money was used in the usurpation of the Fujimiya lands which are wealthy with wood for furniture and very fine sake."

The emperor nodded.

"So the Qin ambassador approached the Imperial negotiaters that he might gain recompense for his lost income, without insulting yourself or losing honour." Crawford's tone was even.

"The Dragon is not a man that i would easily cross." The emperor admitted, "he has a streak of cruelty that one could drive an ox cart through."

"I visited the ambassador last night as soon as I arrived from the country in secret, using information gained by your majesties inestimable network of spies that he wished to act against Takatori, as I am under your instruction." The emperor nodded. "Takatori Masafumi is a self proclaimed connoisseur of female beauty, this is how he and the ambassador became acquainted." The emperor nodded again. "The ambassador is currently being visited by a prospective bride whose beauty is said to be without compare. With some preparation Aya-no-bara will take her place at the dinner."

"Raise your head, boy," the emperor said and Aya did, looking at him. The emperor nodded. "And I suppose he will be poisoned?"

"If he is poisoned, heika, then suspicion might fall upon the ambassador which will negatively affect that trade so hard won with Qin, even if the ambassador acts in honour. Therefore it will be on his way home that he will be waylaid by a servant loyal to the Fujimiya who is acting on honour for his lost master, a Ronin, who can be seen as having no links to either the ambassador or myself."

"I suppose the boy is pretty enough, are you sure Takatori will not recognise him."

"When my twins are done with him," Crawford grinned, "his mother will not recognise him."

"and you, Aya-no-bara," The emperor used the full title that Rukia had given him. "How do you feel about this despite that your retainer might be executed for such action."

"There is no greater honour for a samurai than to die in service of his master," Aya said dutifully without a single quaver in his voice, as if he was coached - he had not been. "My only regret regarding this plan is simply that I will not be the one to meet him in that alley. My sword hungers for his blood, and I shall have to make do with it on a sword swung in my name."

"Blood thirsty, aren't you?" the emperor smiled, "cold too, I can see why Crawford likes you. He can be a little cold himself, but what I've found through long experience is that still waters run very deep indeed." His smile slid into a smirk, strange on his innocent face. The emperor did not look like his reputation suggested, the complete opposite in fact. He should have been a brute of a man wearing the blood of his enemies, instead he had a soft angel face and blonde curls, and was currently wrapped up to sweat out a cold.

He turned back to his negotiator. "And how does the Qin ambassador feel about the lost revenue?"

"I have spoken to those servants who manage my estates and for a small fee he is more than willing to let us enact our plan, you know the Dragon, he does nothing for nothing, even those things that might benefit him." The emperor nodded. "Five kikou will not negatively affect my standing." Crawford said. "It is a small price for what we will achieve."

"Five yen might arrange an accident in the street." The emperor countered.

"But it will not barter good will with the Dragon." Crawford answered, "which is in turn worth more than the money ever will, the Dragon knows this and it means that instead of being equal with him, in the act of negotiating his debt, he owes us a favour, which again makes it a small price to pay."

The emperor laughed. "That's why I like negotiators," he said, "you know what's important in life."

\---

The Qin ambassador was a tall man with floor length ink black hair who wore an indigo kimono with a sort of loucheness that suggested that he was in fact a dragon, wearing human skin that he might slither from at any moment. He had eyes like stones.

Aya's head felt extraordinarily heavy from the elaborate wig and pins, which had chains of silk flowers that fell about his face. His skin, already pale, had been whitened with nightingale dust and his lids painted a soft pink, a red line upon his mouth. He wore an elaborate dress more suited to the Qin court than Kyoto.

To each side of him sat a Qin child, one boy, one girl, with heads appropriately bowed and dressed in miniature versions of what he and the dragon wore. They had been introduced as Moon and Star and would be permanent members of his retinue. They were related, cousins Aya gathered from their chatter, but were the same age. He also suspected that despite Crawford giving them Nihon names, Moon for the boy and Star for the girl, that they had their own names in Qin.

So Aya smiled politely and lowered his head in proper deference whilst Masafumi Takatori, sharp faced, ate facing him with a look of smug superiority, convinced that this evening was going to go entirely his way. He was sprawled out across his cushion whilst a paid whore poured him sake. She was not one of the lights of Gion, who usually attended him on his way, just some girl, and Aya couldn't bring himself to care that she would probably be cut down that night as well.

"So, Dragon," Masafumi started addressing the ambassador, "how much for a night with your beautiful lady?"

The Dragon blinked in shock and then smiled, "My Lady's will is her own, but I imagine her father would set a very high price for such a liaison for my lady has only reached menarche and such makes her very valuable despite her beauty. So without her father here to set such a price, even though Chia Chi," that was the name Aya was using for the ruse, "is my kinswoman, I must decline your offer."

"What about the little one?" Masafumi leered at Star.

Aya spoke up, his voice a breathy whisper just in case, "it is the ruling of my house that none shall be sent to the mat of another without their will, if my maid servant wills it she will be given leave to please you. So, my Star, will you lie with Takatori-sama."

"My lady needs my help with her bed," Star answered in a soft piping voice. "Therefore I must decline, and I am sure there are many ladies of Kyoto who would be honoured by your attention."

Aya couldn't really help the small smile those words caused. "And my Lord Dragon has requested me," Moon blurted out, "and I have accepted so it would be remiss of me to accept another offer."

"Madam, you allow your servants to talk in such a frank manner?"

Aya's expression turned steely although he maintained a sweet smile, the one Hikarin had so patiently taught him, and sure Masafumi would recognise it. "Actually, Takatori-sama, I encourage such willful behaviour in them. I find a servant who is outspoken and coddled to be more loyal than those paid with heavy coin."

Masafum's narrow eyes tightened. "And you, Dragon, will you allow your kinswoman to insult me like this?"

The Dragon blinked long and slow, "I heard no insult," he drawled, exhaling a long plume of smoke from his mouth, sucked down from his pipe, "you asked her a question and she answered, she offered no falsehood or insult. If you choose to take it as such then that is your prerogative, more sake?"

Masafumi got to his feet, "I don't have to stay here to listen to this," he stuttered, angry.

"No," the Dragon said calmly, "you don't, but of course, Mie," he addressed the young courtesan, "you are more than welcome to stay."

"My lord ambasador," the girl nodded, "I would like that, I am honoured that you think of me." She moved to show him more of her nape, that dancing white vee at the back of her kimono.

Masafumi kicked the futon as he left, and Aya realised he really didn't care that he was on his way to his death, it was just one less Takatori to get rid of, and Crawford would like the dress, and the bed would be warmer now with two more servants to sleep among. Until Takatori Reiji was dead he might as well appreciate the little things.


	31. chapter 30

News of the death of Takatori Masafumi reached the dairai the next morning and Aya was informed by the servant who brought him the food with which to break his fast with his master. It seemed that on the way from the house of the Qin ambassador that he had been beset by no less than a hundred bandits and cut down. Aya knew it had only been one but exaggeration was normal. Captain Kuchiki Byakuya of the city guard was aparently apoplectic with rage that one of the nobles in his city had been done in by mere bandits. This was worth news because the last time that Kuchiki-dono had even shown an expression he had accidentally invaded part of Qin.

Also the Lady Rukia was with child, which was amazing because she had been absent since forever, and obviously when she had gone to visit her husband the two of them had been at it like squirrels which was amazing because she had heard that Lord Crawford was cold as stone. Then she had been embarrassed for chattering on at him about such things when he was the Lord Crawford’s concubine and all, and well she hadn’t heard anything during the night, and normally people were loud about such things, even when they hadn’t intended to be, and well, it was only right that Lady Rukia was pregnant because it meant that the young princess would have company which was only fair it being her first time and all, and everyone expected her to keep the baby because everyone knew it was Sohma because she was laying with Sohma Hatsuharu and wasn’t he just the handsomest man in all the court, and she didn't blame the young princess because the maid wouldn’t mind herself.

That was when Aya cut her off taking the kettle of water with a hn that he might continue to finish his master’s breakfast.  
Too many details cut close in the woman’s chatter. Crawford had not touched Aya at all since he had come to the capital.

He didn’t know whether to confront Crawford, who being onmyoji clearly knew these things, or worse he had manipulated them. He didn’t know how it was important that one of the empress’ handmaidens was pregnant, or that it was the child of one of the premier negotiators and the empress’ own cousin.

Aya had met Sohma Hatsuharu when he had first been taken into Crawford's service, when he was still training with Hikarin, he was a tall thin man with a sort of dangerous presence and the top of his hair was white, but underneath it was black, like the spots on a cow. He had rings in both ears and walked with his katana firm in his hand even when in safe surroundings.

He was angry when he entered the room of the Dairai that Crawford was using as his own. Crawford had, for his own reasons, made sure that Ken had laid out the more elaborate woman’s kimono for Moon and Star to help him dress saying that there was need of them to learn, but as far as Aya could tell they were perfectly adequate, then he had sent all of Aya’s servants, little Sena included, to help prepare the Crawford townhouse for them. Naoe had said that Aya was cold when he was angry, the colder he was often the more angry but he felt calm as he knelt and opened the door to enter, as a woman would.

Crawford was not alone. A small zesshai had been set out for breakfast and was merely waiting upon his returning with the kettle of water. Sat around the table was Rukia, who was peeling lychees, her elf slightly to the rear of her. Fuji, who had a blissful look of contentment on his face even if he was clearly sat uncomfortably, and a tall dark haired man that Aya did not know. He was rigid in his posture, and his long hair draped over his shoulder. Strangely he wore white, which Aya knew to be an impractical colour, but it wasn’t heavily embroidered, it was simple white fabric, gathered at his waist by a belt, and thick black hakama.

“Ah, you’ve finally returned,” Crawford said as he picked up a slice of fish with his chop sticks, “we were just discussing the terrible murder that happened last night. I wasn’t sure if you’d heard already, the entire palace is abuzz with information.”

“Yes,” Aya said as he carried the water over, “I was informed as I fetched the kettle, a hundred bandits I heard, lurking in the shadows. I imagine it has caused a stir in the city.” He didn’t know this man and Crawford didn't seem to want to introduce him so Aya was playing dumb. “It is terrible when even a noble of the blood can be waylaid for what trinkets he carries upon him. There are places of course, in the country, where one expects this kind of behaviour, but in Kyoto, it is truly terrible. It makes one wonder if one will be safe in their bed if they leave the Dairai.”

“The gossip over exaggerates.” The man said in a voice with the same tonal inflections as Crawford’s if slightly deeper. “Takatori Masafumi was murdered, that is true, but by a single man, a Ronin who commited seppuku rather than be apprehended. It seems that he had affiliations with the Fujimiya before the fall, I was wondering if you knew him.”

Aya looked wide eyed. “It is true that I was born a Fujimiya but my father had many servants and I cannot say that I knew them all, as they travelled in trade. They were loyal however and if they believed that the Takatori had betrayed them I could understand such behaviour even if I could not condone it.” Crawford seemed impressed by the way that Aya lied, but there was truth in it, Aya didn’t know who had killed Masafumi, only regretted it could not be him.

“And where exactly were you last night, Aya-no-bara?” The man asked, his gaze was cold and somewhat penetrating.

Fuji suddenly laughed, “always the guard, eh, aniki?” he batted the man on the arm and recieved a curt hn in return. “You are here not to interrogate poor Aya but instead to congratulate our lovely Rukia on her impending motherhood.”

Rukia raised a delicately painted eyebrow. “Syuusuke,” she chided, “you know Byakuya-nii-san hates when you call him that.”

“Of course,” Fuji replied, “but it is true, he is my brother, his mother married my father, that makes us family, and he is older than me, therefore he is aniki, it’s all very logical isn’t it, Aya?”

Aya didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“Rukia’s impending joy must impinge upon your own place here in the Crawford household,” Byakuya said, and Aya mused over him, so this was the commander of the city guard, Kuchiki Byakuya. He noted the information away in his head, along with what Fuji seemed so determined to tell him, that he was Rukia’s maternal brother, where Fuji was her fraternal brother only. It was not uncommon for a man to have as many wives as he could afford households for, and Lord Fuji was rich indeed, but at the same time he was not known to be a lover of women, so Rukia’s mother must have been spectacular for him to accept her as a second wife, which she had to have been as a widow.

However looking at her children it was clear that she had more than merely beauty to recommend her. Crawford had revealed, slightly drunk at the time, and sated, that it was not the men of house fuji who were dangerous but their women. Aya did not know how to assess Kuchiki Byakuya yet, but he already knew that he was dangerous.

“My place is at my master’s whim," Aya answered carefully as Fuji smiled that dangerous half smile. “I imagine if he intends to set me aside when his heir is born he will at least wait until the child is ready for weaning, that gives me yet another year in his service, perhaps by then I will have cemented my place with him, after all I have only been in his service for a few short months.

“And yet you still didn't answer my question about where it was that you were last night.” Kuchiki was not going to be swayed.

“I was at the townhouse,” he answered calmly, “upon my master’s will, we argued and he asked that I sleep apart from him.”

“And what did you argue about?” Kuchiki pressed.

“Aniki," Fuji dragged the word out to change the subject but Kuchiki was having none of it.

“His majesty intimated that I might be welcome to share his futon but my master avoided the subject, when we were alone I suggested that it might be best to take him up on his offer as it would improve my master’s standing with his imperial highness, but we disagreed, that is when I and my retinue left for the townhouse to give my master time to cool his temper. Upon dawn I returned this morning to make amends. You may check with my servants, but I was in the town house all night. It was cold and dusty and I have instructed my servants to remain to help with the preparations for us moving there permanently, although I understand Lady Rukia has been asked to stay here to attend the empress and her handmaidens during her pregnancy.”

“And why did Crawford turn down the emperor’s offer do you think?”

Aya adopted a rather empty eyed look as he reached across to pour tea, first into Crawford’s cup, then Kuchiki’s, then his own. “I am merely a concubine,” he answered, “it is not my place to question the decisions of my master, I do not know the ways of court and he does, I am here to entertain and to please.” He flicked his eyes deliberately to Crawford as he said this. “If you have such questions perhaps it is best to ask him yourself.” Kuchiki suspected him, Aya knew, but Aya had not been anywhere near the murder, he had been with the Qin ambassador but the emperor had put in place this story in case people questioned it. “I have no grudge against either the Takatori or the Taira for what happened to my family, my father made his mistakes and I only hope that they can be rectified quickly with little blood shed.”

Kuchiki mused on what he said for a moment before he spoke. “And yet you were disinherited and your sister stands to inherit the Fujimiya wealth on behalf of the Takatori if she ever consummates her marriage.” It wasn't really a question.

“As a concubine I have no concerns over the estate," Aya answered, “In Takatori possession it has been given over to the use of my master so I live in the home I was raised in amongst the servants who raised me, in his service I am given access to wealth that I could not as master of the Fujimiya and have access to the capital as the servant of an imperial negotiator. Perhaps I am shallow for although I mourn my father i do not mourn what might be considered as my loss of status.” That was a complete lie, Aya knew, and waited for the guard to call him on it.

Kuchiki did not, either he decided that Aya was telling him the truth or that machinations were going on behind his back that were happening above his ability to control that he didn’t have to like. “Nevertheless the murder was in Kyoto, which is troublesome for me, as I am tasked with keeping all of his majesties subjects safe and for a simple Ronin to kill a member of the Blood.”

“I can’t imagine it will happen again." Crawford said politely, putting his bowl unto his plate with a loud chink of porcelain. “After all none of the other Takatori are even in the capital. Perhaps Masafumi knew of a threat to his person and came here in the hope that you would be able to save him.”

“Masafumi was an idiot.” Kuchiki corrected him, “he wandered the streets late at night in the Qin quarter, it is merely unfortunate that a Fujimiya Ronin killed him and not a simple cut purse. I just wished to know that it would not happen again.”

Kuchiki definitely knew but Aya had learned the hard way that walls had ears and people were always listening.

“There were not many samurai in my father’s court,” Aya answered honestly, “and most of those were taken in by the Taira, if you wish to enquire of their whereabouts it is worth asking them, I no longer have a hold on them.”

“And yet you spent over a month this winter with the Taira in Gifu.” Kuchiki was far more aware than he had let Aya believe.

“Yes," Aya answered, “Tai’itsu’kun is my kinswoman and I was raised with the two sons of the Sano who are set to inherit the Taira house, but also my kinswoman Rao owns a small estate upon the Taira lands and I spent well over a week with her, my master was adamant that my unfortunate circumstances did not distance me from those who loved me.”

Kuchiki was digesting the information, “I imagine, nii-san,” he said to Crawford, deliberately focussing on the honorific, “that you wished to exploit these bonds of love.”

Crawford smiled, “I am an imperial negotiator,” he answered blithely, “I like to keep my options open. Now, Byakuya-nii-san, it is a simple family breakfast, can we not leave the negotiator and watch commander at the door and simply bask in the time we have here, you should have brought your wife, but I imagine she would not be so tolerant of how you talk shop as our Aya.” Crawford smiled sweetly at Aya and it cut like a knife. “You are yet to congratulate Rukia-kun and tell her how she is glowing, your wife will be displeased with you.”

“I merely think it odd," Kuchiki said quietly as he finally lifted his chopsticks, “that the murder of Masafumi so nicely coincides with the announcement of Aya-hime’s pregnancy.”

Aya dropped his tea bowl in his lap spilling water all over the fine kimono, Fuji moved across to help him. “Ah,” Kuchiki said then, “you didn’t know.”

“If you think the timing odd,” Rukia said, finally joining the conversation, “then you should speak to Haru," she matched her brother’s gaze and for the first time Aya noticed that they had the same eyes and chin, “afterall we know that our Aya has no grudge against the Takatori but what about Aya-hime?”

“I have arranged that I might speak to her later, shall I carry her your congratulations?” he looked at Aya as he said it.

“I," Aya stammered, “I,” then he lowered his eyes, “please excuse me, I must change. Thank you for your consideration and I do hope that there is no greater conspiracy around this terrible murder, and that I am glad that it was merely one man and not one hundred bandits. I,” the words were gone as he scuttled to his feet, suddenly clumsy, and unsure of himself, and went into the next room.

Lying beside the futon was a length of string, perhaps half as long as Aya was tall, which had clearly been used to tie the mattress into a round for storage, that it might not come undone. Aya sat heavily on the futon, as if his legs had been cut out from under him, and toyed with the piece of string, first wrapping it around one wrist and then other other. It was long enough, he mused, to tie around both ankles and fix them to his wrists, as if he was hogtied. He put down the string and removed the stained outer kimono, then the layers underneath until he sat only in his nagajubon and hakama. He was angry and upset and a million other things and suddenly the few mouthfuls of ginger tea he had had for breakfast felt like they were curdling in his belly.

The string coiled and stretched through his fingers. He thought of the myriad ways it could be used to tie him up, because if he was tied he wouldn;t murder Sohma Hatsuharu and have to commit seppuku before he could kill Takatori Reiji for the destruction of his family, but he wouldn’t have to act out this farce.

And what was worse was that Crawford had to have known.

When Fuji came in, carrying another bowl of the tea for him, Aya had not realised that he had wrapped the string about his wrist very tightly, the flesh around it red and puffy.

“You know most people use rope because it’s less likely to cut you or cut off the circulation.” His gaze on the string was assessing, as if he understood things that Aya possibly couldn’t. “Here," he handed him the bowl and Aya was surprised that it was green tea and not ginger. He took healthy slurps of it, “Aniki is," he smiled and his eyes flashed blue through his lashes, “more dangerous than he looks, he knows Crawford has something to do with Takatori’s murder but can't prove it, and even if he could he wouldn’t be able to act against a negotiator. That doesn’t mean he won’t do his job though.”

He stopped for a moment and then swept his hair back for a moment, “the news about your sister, are you well about it? I understand it must be a shock to you.”

“Hn," Aya snorted. He didn't know what to think, he’d work that out later when he had done what he needed to do. He might only have been a silly concubine, powerless and without allies in a court of sharks, but Sohma Hatsuharu needed to die.


	32. Chapter 32

Kuchiki-buchou was perfectly aware that Negotiator Crawford had extended his machinations to Kyoto and that he did serve the emperor, this did not mean that he was pleased with these turn of events. He looked at the goban in front of him, Touya-dono was beating him again. This was nothing new, Touya-dono always won, but it seemed that the margin was larger than usual.

“You seem distracted, buchou.” Touya said as he laid down his black stone with a clink on the goban. “If you wish we can postpone this game.” He had no doubt that Touya would remember the exact layout of the board. “I am a simple concubine but I can offer my ears.”

Touya was one of the emperors twin concubines, he was called the Winter Flower or Fuyu-no-Hana by the poets, where the other, Shindou was Haru-no-Yanagi or the Spring Willow. They were like a sun and moon set against each other, Touya cold and pale, with a bird like elegance and soft thin features, his eyes were dark and cool, but Shindou’s skin was richer, his expressions exuberant and plumper, stronger, brighter, the gold to Touya’s pearl.

They were an unlikely matched pair, but they were very clearly that. “I am merely contemplative,” Kuchiki said quietly, “I am aware of a crime that has been committed but although it is against my emperor’s laws I know that it is at his will, and I do not know if I should pursue it to the best of my ability as is my duty, or I should abide by my emperor’s word and accept that the matter is resolved when I know it is not.”

Touya smiled, a soft pale thing on his face, “ah, the murder of Takatori," he said, “do you know my father?” He asked, Touya’s father was the court meijin but Kuchiki had never met him. He spent time with the two concubines because the emperor indulged them with some of the best opponents he could find them in Go, but Touya-Meijin was far beyond their abilities to play. Kuchiki also knew that at some point one or both of the two would take over the title. “He told me a simple truth when I was still playing with a fifteen stone advantage, he said that in Go one does not play the stone in hand, but instead tries to play the stone one will have in hand in as many turns as one is able. To do this one must be able to predict and in some cases control the places where one’s opponent will place his stone.”

Kuchiki nodded, it was a very clever strategy.

“Crawford-Onmyoji,” The boy cleverly used Crawford’s true title, because although he served as a negotiator he was a sorcerer and would be until he died, “is said to be a seer with the ability to glimpse the future, to see the board before it is played as it were. Therefore if one were to play Go against him one would have to hope either he did not use this talent, or to change the future.”

“What do you mean?” Shindou was unpredictable, wild, brilliant and daring, but Touya’s cold predictions were based upon study.

“A sword can be held in either hand, Kuchiki-buchou, so instead of watching the sword one watches the swordsman for his errors and weaknesses, do you not also play the move that the swordsman does not know he will make to defeat him?” Kuchiki nodded, “then you are like Crawford-Onmyoji, but he has a weakness, if you remove from him his ability to see the future then the ability you have learned to emulate remains with you whilst he is blinded.”

Kuchiki laid down his stone securing a small area of the grid. "I wonder if you aim for the title of Meijin or Shogun.”

Touya bristled under the question. “I belong to Heika," he said stiffly, “these are the amusements he allows me.” Shindou was erratic, beautiful but forgiving, Touya could hold a grudge and an insult, Kuchiki knew he had gone from simply losing the game to being humiliated. “I know you well, Kuchiki-buchou, you are a man who will do what is legal at the cost of what is right. Court is a nest of vipers where if a man steps carefully he will survive, however it is the position of Heika and the negotiators to corral and guide those vipers to serve Nihon. Do you know why Heika sent, of all the negotiators, Crawford-onmyoji to investigate the Taira Takatori debacle on his behalf?”

“Because he can see the future?” Kuchiki asked.

“No, because he is ruthless and to do ruthless things one must be prepared to do what one must, one must be prepared to crush one’s enemies without question or remorse. I know Crawford-onmyoji’s loyalty is exclusive to himself, it is the price of powerful men, but whilst such loyalty remains,” he placed his stone on the goban and in doing so secured the game. “He is a powerful ally, thus it suits the emperor to keep him loyal, to find at how many moves ahead Crawford plays the game and to play ahead one more.”

“What do you mean?” Kuchiki knew that the emperor trusted the advice of his concubines and that he kept them for much more than their beauty.

“Think of this like Shidou-go, is your discomfort with Crawford-onmyoji because he committed a crime in your prefecture and thereby makes you look incompetent, or because he is married to your sister?” That hit Kuchiki close to the knuckle, “now why did Crawford-onmyoji marry Rukia-hime? She has no wealth from your mutual mother, and no rights to inherit the Fuji wealth, he gained no standing in court for marrying her, yet he suggested it to the emperor himself. So, Buchou, why? Look at the board he has laid out, the moves he could not help but make, now why does he lay his stone to make such a bizarre moku, a move that would be so difficult to predict?”

Touya was born to play Go, it coloured his world in a grid with black and white stones. “By so openly allying himself with both house Fuji and house Kuchiki he gains more influence at court.”

“Influence he does not need as a powerful onmyoji and respected negotiator, both of which supply him with great wealth. Why Rukia?”

“He knew that she would be part of the expedition to Europa.” It was a quiet revelation.

“Something he could not have known having married her two years before the expedition was even discussed.”

“but he can see the future.” Kuchiki continued.

“Erratically at best, but when she returned she made him a gift that has the entire academy of of onmyoji grey with envy.”

“The trionfi.” He mangled the word but he had heard of it, he had considered extra guards upon the house to prevent open warfare as other onmyoji sent their own personal soldiers to collect them, but Crawford had openly stated that he would allow copies.

“And what are the Trionfi for, why did Rukia select them of all the treasures of Europa to give her husband.”

“They are used to predict the future.” Kuchiki said, “and in the hands of a seer they would correct the erratic nature of his visions, allow him to control them, and Rukia would innocently buy such a gift thinking that they would amuse him, or that he could use them to further her own agendas.”

Touya gave a warm and innocent smile, “now you are thinking like a go player, or a negotiator. Rukia-hime has her own agendas, she is as ruthless as he and is as happy to use her husband as he is to use her, they are in fact a match of equals, and I believe that there might even be love between them.” He cleared the goban to start another game. “Why else would she train Aya-no-bara as it said all over court that she did?”

“To murder her husband in his sleep.”

“Ah, so we can see Crawford-onmyoji’s hand knowing what we do of his intentions, we can see Rukia-hime’s, but what are the motivations of Aya-no-bara?”

Kuchiki’s head was reeling following the clever threads the boy worked out and laid out so clearly, things he had clearly worked out whilst playing Go. He had famously said before that Shoji, the game of warriors, was for those who had no idea of politics. The boy would be devastating if he ever decided to wield power. “His family were destroyed by the Takatori Taira debt.”

“Then let’s look at that, why were the Fujimiya, a small house notable only for it’s familial bonds, even involved, it can claim lineage of both houses but the amounts traded were beyond it's means, so why did it need the money from the Taira that the Takatori squandered in it's bad dealing?”

“It didn’t,” Kuchiki said calmly, “but neither did the Takatori.”

Touya nodded and held out his hands for Kuchiki to choose which position to play, black or white, each hand had one colour secreted within. “So why then did the Fujimiya borrow money from the Taira, and why were the Takatori involved? Lord Fujimiya killed himself rather than face the shame, but what was the shame? It is an open secret that the Takatori fleeced the Fujimiya and used the Taira to do it, that they extorted the money for a deal that they knew would fail and refuse to pay it back, thus bankrupting the Fujimiya but even so Takatori Reiji could have achieved a similar end in suggesting his son as a husband for the young princess.”

Kuchiki was nodding. “Unless he was refused.”

“A marriage that was later performed with such undue haste that the bride was immediately sent to court, and may not have even been present, a marriage only made legal because the boy was disinherited, thus allowing them to size their lands and wealth, neither of which was worth the effort.”

“Unless there was something hidden there.” Kuchiki added.

“But they then immediately present the land to the imperial negotiator that they knew would be sent because they had included the Taira and Heika would not tolerate even the stirrings of civil war, but the Takatori have only a fraction of their military standing and would have been slaughtered for.” Kuchiki nodded. “Why do it so an imperial negotiator would be involved at all? Therefore we can rightly assume, from the way that the game was maneuvered, that Takatori Saijou, who insisted on imperial interference, set Reiji up, to gain something from the Fujimiya.”

“but the only thing that they claimed and kept was Aya-hime.” Kuchiki said.

“Exactly, so what does Aya-hime offer that an imperial negotiator would recognise?”

Kuchiki was not the sort to grin as he realised. “She has imperial blood, her mother was an imperial princess. Thereby by marrying her to the heir apparent they gain the ability to make a claim to the throne, no matter at this point how tenuous. If Saijou made it look like Reiji was the perpetrator then he knew that the negotiator would eliminate the girl’s husband forcing her into marriage with his preferred heir, the boy Mamoru.” That too was an open secret at court, “bringing the boy to court where his own children would be considered for marrying into the family. So Aya-no-bara, being aware of this, with the added indignity of what Crawford makes him suffer, would serve Crawford in alliance to bring down the Takatori.” Suddenly the machinations seemed much clearer, he understood why Takatori Masafumi’s death had been arranged the way that it had.

“Also remember that Saijou might not be content with just a great grandchild upon the imperial throne, he might intend to place Mamoru himself upon it, because as a child the boy is clearly innocent of his uncle’s wrong-doing even if the rest of the family is murdered.”

“K’so,” Kuchiki murmured under his breath, “and of course his majesty cannot act openly against the Takatori until they act openly against him, so he sent Crawford-onmyoji to complete the task.”

“And Crawford-onmyoji requested that I ask you here that you might be witness to something.” Touya’s loyalty was exclusively to Shindou and the emperor.

“And what is that?” Kuchiki knew far better than to trust any negotiator, especially Crawford.

“He did not say.” Touya answered, “but as all that he offered in exchange with me was a game of Go I trust it isn’t something that would offend your sensibilities or position.” He had a look in his eyes that was dangerous, “and you are one of the few players in Court with whom I can openly compete.”

“I can’t beat you though.”

“Not yet,” Touya answered with a smile, “but you are learning, you already play three moves ahead, how much more fun will you be at five?”

Shindou, who shared a futon with Touya, slid open the door and entered, he was dressed in the same non descript fashion as his counterpart but his entire mien and demeanour gave him a look of flamboyance that was simple elegance in Touya. Where Touya glowed, Shindou shone. In his hands was a simple wooden box that was almost completely without adornment apart from a simple carving at the top. “Look, Touya-kun,” the boy enthused flopping down on the cushion beside them. “Look what Rukia-hime brought us. It is a miracle.”

Kuchiki had received his own gift from his sister but had not expected her to treat the emperor’s concubines so. She could not have been sure that they would still have been in favour upon her return because she had been gone a long time. Shindou opened the box and it started to play music, a sort of pleasant tinkling sound. “It is a box of music,” he continued, “it is wound here,” he showed them the key which had been hidden in his hand, “but we are to be very careful because if it breaks there is no one around to fix it.”

“Is that where you were, Shindou-dono?” Kuchiki asked.

“Yes, with the empress and Rukia-hime, it has lots of little bells inside and hammers that are on a cylinder, she tried to explain it to me but I didn’t listen, I was too interested in it, isn’t it wonderful?” To the naive observer Shindou was simple and vapid, the complete opposite was true, where Touya was quietly elegantly watching the way the game unfolded Shindou was more than capable of maneuvering the pieces into place with subtle charm and sheer force of his charisma. Touya was a thing to be admired but Shindou was adored.

“She was telling the empress all about her travels, and the things she saw there, there was this one place in the north where the snow is so deep that they build their houses on stilts and come winter they have to build tunnels between them.” Kuchiki had to admit that if it was true it was remarkable, “and they have these buildings with domes on them like.”

Outside the room was a tremendous crash and tearing sound, like something large falling through a screen. Kuchiki’s hand immediately went for the tanto secured in his obi and pushing the two boys behind him so that if there was a threat then they would not be included.

He threw open the door to the central courtyard and quickly appraised the situation in front of him. Aya-no-Bara, with his small dog yipping at his feet, was holding a knife and there was a spray of blood across his face. He looked genuinely shocked. Beside him was a tall man with white hair and he was trying to wrestle the knife from Aya-no-bara. The screen before them, that led to the empress’ private chambers, and was reinforced accordingly, was shattered, with a man in solid black lying in front of them. “you can’t kill him.” The elf whispered, “they’ll need him for questioning.”

Noticing Kuchiki Aya-no-bara withered like a rose in the snow, almost folding in on himself away from the blood as it dripped down the walkway. “I,” he said and then turned, dropping the knife.

“stop!” Kuchiki barked out and the young man did. “What the hell happened here?”

The elf spoke, calmly, and clearly, “The Aya-no-bara was taking the evening air,” Aya bent down and picked up the small dog, “Kimi needed to relieve herself and I agreed to accompany him whilst his master is with his wife.” The elf radiated an easy violence, “when he saw the intruder, I gave him one of my knives to defend himself as I made towards him, hopefully to capture him when the man attacked Aya-sama in case he might call out. Aya-sama stabbed him in the gut.”

Kuchiki almost laughed with the chagrin of it, this was why Crawford had bribed Touya to challenge him to a game of Go, so he would see this, because whatever reason that Aya-no-Bara had for being about in the palace at night with a knife he had caught an intruder that would divert attention. The terrible thing Kuchiki knew, was that it had worked.


	33. Chapter 33

Crawford maintained a luxurious but small house in the capital, amidst the other mansions of the onmyoji, in comparison to whom his looked rather ineffectual. To Aya, used to the sprawl of the Fujimiya house it felt rather small and claustrophobic with people everywhere and so he took to sitting on the balcony overlooking the deer catcher and watching the sky.

Fuji sat beside him. “Do you know I hate the capital.” he said. it wasn’t a question. “No matter what you do or why you do it people analyse it for every single possible reason so they can use it against you. Even this,” he gestured to the balcony. “I know it’s that there are too many people in the house and you feel,” he tilted his head, “but over there,” he waved at the guard on the wall, “that is a spy for Kuchiki who probably thinks that you are waiting on some signal of an attempt on the empress.”

“I have no intentions to the empire.” Aya said. “I am just a concubine. I have no real power.”

“Yet you and your sister are descended from gods which means you can legally claim the throne in her name if the emperor was no longer available. That is why your sister is so dangerous without lifting a finger.” He leant back. “I am surprised the emperor did not take her as a second wife to remove that threat.”

“What do you mean?” Aya asked, he was late come to politics, the Fujimiya house had had no care for them.

“If he marries her and promotes any child she has then the threat is gone, because it can’t be used against his house because it has been accepted into his house. Instead the empress beat him to it by introducing her to her cousin, Hatsuharu,”

Aya growled.

“Easy,” Fuji gave a delighted little laugh. “He is a good man and he has asked that they might marry. I do believe it might be genuine between them, it is not like Crawford hasn't threatened him on your behalf.” Aya blinked at that, his porcelain facade wavering for a moment. He had not known that, Fuji thought to himself, the rumours about the two of them being at loggerheads must be true. “Is that where you went that night when you caught the assassin, to kill Haru?”

“Yes. Now Crawford has restrained me to this house and I know nothing of what happens.”

“The assassin was a mercenary,” Fuji said, without revealing the source of his own information, “he worked for the Ichiroya Teahouse in the Hanakotoba district of town. He claimed that he was hired by the oiran Omemie, not to kill the empress, but to kill you for the murder of Takatori Masafumi.”

“I was not the one who killed him.” Aya was learning the art of speaking the truth so it revealed nothing. Fuji knew everything that happened in the house but he didn’t need spies to do so.

“But she believes you were, she has said so under the gentle touch of Captain Kuchiki and my own dear ‘Mitsu, who hates that he is the imperial interrogator, even though he is so very good at it.”

“It’s a very odd profession for a swordsman to take.” Aya agreed. Tezuka had only recently agreed to spar with Aya and he was yet to find a chink in the captain's defense.

“The empress has an eye for talent and he is very thorough, things that make him terrifying as an interrogator and wonderful as a lover.” Fuji’s little smile might not have seemed to have shifted but was slightly fond and mocking now. “There will be rain,” Fuji said then, looking at the sky, “come inside before your fine kimono are ruined.”

“Do you ever wish things would go back to the way they were before?” Aya asked, noticing the cloud that sat on the horizon at last.

“Why would I?” Fuji asked, “the future is a wonderful place, all the more for not knowing what’s going to happen there. Crawford has his plans, and the empress has her plans and the emperor has his plans and do you know what my plans are?” His eyes opened a thin, menacing crack. “Supper, and bed, and possibly getting pillowed by my lover. Perhaps those are the kind of politics that should interest you.”

Aya stood up. “I don’t understand.”

“There are games played between lovers that make those between countries look amiable.” Fuji said loftily. “Even when those lovers aren't sharing a futon.”

“He does not send for me.”

“Why should he need to send? If you wish it then visit him.” Fuji slid open the door to the upper room. “Perhaps you need to remind others of your place in the house that they might not assume things which are not true.”

“I don't understand.”

“A few screaming pillowings and attentive gestures on your lord will reassure them you are a silly boy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Fuji’s eyes were a sliver of blue. “As well as being a most pleasant distraction.” He turned his brown head. “A gift, I think, we shall get him a gift.”

“I’m bound to the house.” Aya reminded his friend.

“But I am not, and if I insist that you are to accompany me...” he left it open.

\---

The shop which Fuji took him to was small and in a side street, Fuji left their guards outside and greeted the owner, who wore a strange hat pulled down over his face, like an old friend. “This is Aya,” he said and Aya spent the rest of the encounter as red as his hair as more and more instruments of sexual pleasure were shown to them. There were ropes. There were oils. There were carved phalluses, one of which could be played like a flute. There were kimonos so fine that the wearer might as well be naked. Aya hadn’t considered him a prude, naive perhaps, but after that morning he thought he might well be wrong.

Fuji just maintained that soft mocking smile and agreed to pay for everything Aya wanted, and certain things that he didn’t, and others he had no idea of the purpose of. He arranged for them to be delivered to Crawford’s manse and then took Aya for tea at a local teahouse. He waved away all but one of the girls sent to wait on them and leaned back on his floor cushion like a maharajah at play. “You worry too much.” Fuji said calmly, taking in Aya’s ramrod straight posture. “This is tea, it will not kill you.” His smile was closed eyed and impish. “Nor will Crawford for taking this small excursion.”

“His rule is explicit that I am not to leave the household.”

“You are perfectly capable of mischief within the household.” Fuji corrected him, popping one of the sugar dusted confections into his mouth. The servant girl tittered politely. “Leave us.” Fuji told her. She nodded her head and bowed. “Crawford intends to keep you closeted because you are so delightfully naive and he thinks that people such as I will happily spoil you, which I will.”

“Kuchiki-dono watches me closely. I do not like his attention.”

“Kuchiki thinks that you are going to murder the emperor, or the emperor will be murdered on your behalf.” Fuji said bluntly. “It’s his job to watch you, but believe me he has no interest in you other than how other people will use you.”

“I don't understand, my intentions are quite transparent.”

“But Crawford’s aren’t.” Fuji answered bluntly, “and you are legally his creature. You would make, or so they think, a fantastic puppet emperor if his motivations ran that way.”

“Do they?”

“That’s the first clever thing you’ve asked me since we came to the capital.” Fuji said. “Crawford’s motivations are his own, he keeps them closer than he keeps you. Perhaps he has no more intention than living in the country surrounded by people who are worth the time, I wouldn't put it past him.” He sipped his tea. “Crawford has his ambitions, but he doesn't share them with me, after all I’m far to flighty to be trusted, but I doubt he has intentions to the throne. I may be wrong but I don’t think I am. When we go back, bring out the Go board, play him, watch how he moves the stones, or better yet, fuck him. You are tetchy, he is tetchy, it will make the household a more pleasant place to be.” He sighed and stretched out even more luxuriantly if such was possible. “and besides we have all those wonderful new toys for you to play with. Let’s give Kuchiki’s man something to watch.”

“Fuji!” Aya hissed, blushing as bright as his hair.

“Aya, you talk like I’ve never had a cock up my arse.” Fuji said bluntly, his eyes flashing blue, “it feels wonderful to do so, but to do so and watching some poor little guard’s head explode is even better. We can tie you up,” his finger traced a design in the powder on the dish which held the conditions, “wearing that lovely dark purple robe he got you from the Xing ambassador, loosely belted of course, with your skin I imagine he loves to unwrap you, and let them see how loyal you are to your master. Crawford won’t resist you, he’s only human after all.” Fuji laughed to himself, “perhaps, yes, a blindfold, I’m sure you have more than one false collar we can use for the purpose.”

“You’re terrible.” Aya said trying to hide the effect that the words had on him.

“Do you wish me to call in a tayu to take care of that?” Fuji said gesturing to Aya’s nascent erection.

“No,” Aya’s tone brooked no argument in this. “We shall save it for my master.”

\----

Crawford went into his study with an arm full of papers which he threw down on his low desk with a deep sigh. “Master,” Aya said quietly. “Is that you?”

Aya sat patiently in the shadows, wearing an indigo silk robe that was as dark as ink, his hair, almost reaching his shoulders was down, and he wore a white blindfold. “This servant has bathed and waited for you.” The words were oddly formal and the layers of incense he wore were maddening, blurring Crawford’s thoughts like opium.

“I am vexed with this servant.” Crawford said. “I did not ask him to wait.”

“Sometimes a slave must anticipate his master’s wishes.” Aya’s voice was soft, breathy, almost lost in the shadows. “Sometimes a master will not accept what is best for him." Aya clumsily got to his feet, unable to see through the cloth over his eyes. “Sometimes it is a slave’s place to take action that he might save his master against his master’s wishes.”

“A slave can be flogged for such behaviour.” Crawford said bluntly, waiting for Aya’s hands to find him but they did not, instead there was a sussuration noise of silk, and then the whirr of what sounded like rope passing through metal. Crawford turned and saw what had made the noise. Aya’s hands had been hoisted above his head and the same rope pulled a single ankle upright, almost level with his shoulder, parting the inky fabric with a white thigh.

“This slave only wishes to serve. His body is the domain of his master, to use as his master wishes, but it is prepared for his master’s pleasure, for a slave may only know pleasure at the hand of his master.”

Crawford licked his lips, “how long has it been?”

“Too long, Master,” Aya said, gasping as Crawford ran a single finger nail down his inner thigh. “If it has been hard for me perhaps it has also been difficult for you.” He lingered on the word master as he said it, “I know that you have been busy at work and take little time for yourself. I feel that you have not relieved yourself since I left for the house of sleep.”

“You have been disobedient since your return, I do not reward disobedience.”

“this is not a reward, master,” Aya’s voice hitched as crawford ran his fingernail along the sole of his bare foot, “this is my duty, my rewards come in the after, in the sight of you reaching completion, in the flush across your chest, not the feel of your hands upon me, your cock in me, those are duty. I am bound, I am blinded, I cannot take reward from this. I am yours to use, to do with as you will.”

“And if I decide to leave you here?”

Aya licked his lips, anger flashed across the line of his throat, and he swallowed. “Then such is your will.”

Crawford circled him. The robe was pulled down at the back, perhaps by Naoe to better highlight the dark mark of the tattoo that Crawford had branded him with. It gave him an idea. He moved to the cabinet and removed the ink stone and brushes, quickly grinding some ink and mixing it. Let Aya think that he was being passed over.

He selected a brush, running it over his wrist to test the roughness of the bristles, then dipping it in the ink he ran it the length of the sole of Aya’s foot, listening to the gasp. It clearly tickled.

One leg was suspended, the other hidden in the folds of the robe, which was loosely belted at his stomach, and on it, on the inside of his calf Crawford quickly wrote the Kanji he used as his name. Aya made a noise, then another as he began to write, quick kanji that meant nothing. Aya's skin was so pale the black ink stood out in stark contrast.

Along the line of his shin he wrote quick dirty haiku, then as the ink on his sole was dry followed the line with his tongue.

He undid the belt and let the hanfu dangle from his arms, down his back, revealing the lines of his chest, pulled taut by the ropes holding his arms up. “If I forsook your pleasure,” Crawford said, drawing quick calligraphy trees upon the skin, using the ridges of his ribs to serve as the steppes of his landscape, “if I merely pushed inside you and took my completion what would you do?”

“As my master wills.” Aya said quietly, “for such is my duty. Use me as you wish, I am nothing before you.”

Suddenly angered Crawford grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “you are my concubine,” Crawford growled in his ear, “and you should wear that honour with pride.” He was sure Aya could feel Crawford’s erection against his hip where he stood, holding back his head.

“I would if you would use me as your concubine.” Aya answered. “Remind me of my place.” He said, “I am bound and blind waiting for you, do it if you’re able,” it was a goad and it was working, “lower the ropes and fuck my mouth, raise the ropes and fuck my ass, remind me of my place, leave your cum inside me so I don't forget, so even the spies who watch us now know my place and leave here with my beauty like this emblazoned on their eyes, that they go home to their wives and fuck them thinking of me. Can you do it, master?” that time the word was mocking. Crawford slapped his ass hard, but Aya didn't stop talking. “Think of it, master, that they are so fixated with the image of your cock sliding in and out of me that they wish it was theirs, that when they go to their whores and their wives it’s me they see themselves sticking it in, let everyone know what I am, what I am to you. Do it? I’m prepared, you won’t hurt me, fuck me like you mean it, remind me that you own me.”

The words were deliberately inflammatory. The pose was designed to rob him of thought. The whole process was to end with Crawford forgetting, if not forgiving, Aya’s sins and taking him back into his bed. But it was working. Crawford was getting angry.

“Imagine Kuchiki, master,” he couldn't see the way that Crawford bared his teeth, “do you think he watches me the way he does because he thinks I’m a threat or because he wants to bend me over and fuck me. He’s a swordsman, he’ll have delicious hands, all hard and thin and long, imagine what they’ll feel like inside me.

Crawford undid the ties of his hakama and without even checking how prepared Aya was he pushed inside, to remind this boy, this creature, who he belonged to. He fucked him hard as Aya gasped and the ropes creaked, hitching up his free leg so that he was completely suspended and Aya grunted as Crawford threw his fuck up into him, hard enough to knock the air from him. It had been so long, Crawford’s mind went black, his world shrinking only to the feel of Aya, so hot and tight around his cock, the noises he made, and the slap of his ass against Crawford’s hips.


	34. Chapter 34

Aya knelt on the veranda in front of his master, on a low hessian mat to preserve the rich fabric of his hakama, with his kimono spread about him. Naoe had pulled his hair into a high tail that fell down the back of his head highlighting the tattoo there. Crawford stood behind him, in dark colours, as the other lords of the court gathered around the small courtyard, as well as a few retainers and two other Onmyoji. The ground was wet from a light spring rain and there was a sharp chill in the air as the winter held it's last on the morning.

Omemie of the San Hikari stood in the centre of the courtyard, on a small hessian mat, not unlike the one that Aya knelt on, in full regalia. She wore at least ten layers of kimono, some of which were as fine as whispers, each of which was delicately embroidered with spring motifs and colours. Her feet were tiny, and she wore a stripe of pale peach coloured silk over the paint on her eyes.

Twelve perfect gold kanzashi were placed through her hair which had been pulled and waxed into a perfect oval around her narrow face, with flowers and beads and ribbons hanging from them to frame her face. Her skin had been whitened and her mouth was a small red slash, her teeth blackened to preserve her beauty and her eyes were covered by the sheer fabric but Aya had no doubt that they were beautiful too. 

“State your name for the court.” Kuchiki said in a cold voice, like this was routine for him.

“I am Omemie of the San Hikari.” She said and held her head up high as she did so.

“You stand convicted of the hiring of an assassin who crept into the Imperial Compound and crossed into those chambers held by her majesty, long may she reign.” The Empress sat beside her husband, and the two of them, in formal robes, looked like nothing more than two of the dolls from the room in the Fujimiya house, impassive small wooden heads under layers of beautiful fabric.

There were lords here, but the Empress and Omemie were the only two women present.

“I hired an assassin.” Omemie said in a low clear voice. “I have no shame in it, but I meant no ill against the Empress, long may she reign, my target was the doxy of the onmyoji who calls himself the Aya no Bara.” She sneered at that. “For the murder of my danna, Takatori Masafumi.”

No one snickered or muttered at the revelation and Aya noted that the gossip had spread so far.

Tezuka wore solid black, with a white kataginu with the empress' mon emblazoned on each solder, draped over it. He held in his hand the full length sword of his place. “It is irrelevant your intent, you hired an assassin. That assassin stepped within the chambers of the Empress, and such your place in this is clear.” Two servants stepped forward and quickly undid her clothes, until she stood there in only her white silk kosode. Her feet had been bare under the layers of expensive robes. “By the law all that you own, all that your danna gave you and all that you have earned becomes the property of the Empress to distribute at her will. Is there anything left you have to say.”

Omemie reached up and took the kanzashi from her hair herself, handing them delicately to the two male servants who took such care of the kimono that they had draped over their shoulders, the fabric heavy and beautiful.

“I ask only that the Aya no Bara himself delivers the blow, that I might be with my danna.” Her smile was a small, cruel thing on her lovely face.

The Empress for a moment showed an emotion, quick and bitter across her cold face. Perhaps she intended to distress him, but Aya turned his head to look at his master, who nodded then he stood up and untied his obi, sloughing off the outer layers of dark kimono he wore to let them fall. Ken dashed forward to pick them up.

“I can say,” he said clearly, “I had no part in the murder of your danna, but he was killed in my name. I will bear the sword, if you will let me, Omemie-Tayu.” Like her he stripped down to his hakama and undershirt that his expensive robes would not be spoiled by the blood.

“Have you done this before?” Tezuka asked, offering him the hilt of his sword. It was a full ceremonial sword, he wore both his tanto and wakizashi thrust through his belt and held in place with soft white cords. For a second Aya wondered how the cords would feel about his wrists and then he steeled himself.

“I have, my father,” Aya stopped himself as his hand tightened around the shagreen hilt, “he believed it was improper to sentence someone to death if one did not have the stomach to hold the sword.”

Tezuka shrugged. “It is a good rule to have.” He said calmly. Then from a servant he took a piece of paper. “When you are ready, Aya-no-bara.” This was the man, Aya thought, who had lain with him in the small moon temple on his family's land when he lay dying. This was the man who had stood between him and his master to give him time to heal. This was the quiet lover who decimated Fuji with his smile. This man was the Imperial Torturer and Executioner. This man was the greatest swordsman that Aya had ever known.

The sword slipped in it's sheath with a quick snick, before Aya took it from the saya in a single fluid motion, letting his body find it's weight and it's momentum. Then he took a deep breath and spun on the ball of his foot, letting the blade fly.

Tezuka caught Omemie's head, she was still smiling as the blade cut through her neck with such ease it might as well have been a tatami, rolled up around a wooden post like they were in practise, there was no blood at first, as Tezuka pressed the paper to the stump of her neck, and offered the head to his Emperor with a bow.

Aya took a piece of cloth from the waist of his hakama, carried there in case of spills of tea around his mouth, and wiped the blade down. It was a good sword, well cared for and beautifully weighted, before he returned it to its saya and offered it back to Tezuka. Behind him Omemie's body started to crumple, the whole thing had happened so fast that it was only now realising that it was dead. Aya didn't bother to look at it. The woman had signed her own death warrant, all he had done was hold the sword.

Tezuka took the sword with a bow of the head, one that acknowledged mastery of a skill and a look in his eyes that was a little sad and a touch fearful, before Aya bobbed his head in response and then returned to his position, kneeling at Crawford's feet still in his nagajuuban despite the early spring chill, and Crawford rested his hand upon his head, in a gesture that was reassuring if not actually condoning. Tezuka would not have been surprised if Crawford had been angered by it.

Servants took the body away. “That was well done, Aya-no-Bara.” The Empress said leaning forward. Her voice was a rough growl and her face was as impassive as porcelain. “Such skill deserves reward, does it not, Negotiator Crawford?” It was a barb, Tezuka knew, the Empress gave nothing for no reason. “That which belonged to Omemie it is mine as I was the injured party to do with as I will. I give it to you, Tayu, that you might accept her beauty as well.”

Aya bowed his head in low deference. “I thank you for your largesse, Heika,” Crawford said from behind him. “But little that Omemie had access to was her own, and I have been trying to wean him from the clothes that are usually worn by a tayu.” 

The empress raised a perfectly painted eyebrow, one that was set on her forehead higher than her own would be. “Are you refusing my gift, Negotiator?” she asked.

“Certainly not, heika.” Crawford answered, “but I would be remiss in not pointing out that the gift might not be as large as you might think, and perhaps those clothes would be better suited for your handmaidens, although I see that she is not present today, is not your own Aya-hime the sister of my Aya-no-Bara?” The Empress' eyes were dark and hard. “Might not they reflect her own beauty as well as that of her brother.”

“And should a young princess of my service dress herself as a whore?” The empress asked, “for we pretty them up and dress them in silks and gold but does that stop them being just paid better than a street whore.”

Aya did not flinch. “There are many differences between a street whore and a tayu, wife” the emperor said blythely, “one that more than earns what they are paid, although it is not much that they receive for their time, most of it goes to the Ochaya, Negotiator Crawford speaks true, Omemie would own little of her wealth, and that came from the Takatori, perhaps giving her furs and jewels to Aya-hime might suit better, she is married to a Takatori.” Aya flinched at that, his eyes tightening but his expression remained cold. “Perhaps it would be best to simply sell them and line our own coffers if you will not wear the robes of a whore, wife, then we can buy things with it that would better please you.”

“And if it pleases me to see the Aya-no-Bara dressed in the robes that Omemie wore?” 

“Majesty,” Aya said standing, “if it please you I would wear sack cloth and ashes that I might make you smile, I am a mere tayu, a concubine bound to his danna's pleasure, a gift given from one lord to another,” his voice was like ice, “but if it would please you I would wear her robes, bring them now and I shall dress for you.” 

Tezuka noticed how carefully it was worded, he said that he would wear them, but not that he would keep them.

“Is that not tasteless,” one of the Onmyoji said, she was a small woman in a black kimono with a black silk veil over her hair, she had bound her hair into twin braids that framed her face, “with Omemie's blood still on the courtyard?”

“Hanajima-Omyoji.” The Emperor said, “again your wisdom humbles us.” The sorceror's expression was deliberately vague. She had a sweet expression despite her black robes, which Tezuka knew were as fine as anything that Omemie might have worn, with just as much embroidery, but deliberately black upon black. The only cosmetics she wore was black lacquer upon her fingernails, and her face was as unpainted as that of a country man.

The Empress did not like Hanajima's statement for her painted mouth tightened. “It is an honour to be the voice of reason to the Heika and his Empress.” She said deftly. The Onmyoji were loyal to the emperor but the Empress had her own negotiators. Perhaps she had forgotten that Crawford was Onmyoji too because he served as a Negotiator. “I agree that Aya-no-Bara would look tremendous in the true robes of a tayu, but sometimes things which are beautiful can lose their lustre if they we are over exposed to them, so perhaps it is best that it is a delight saved for times when we are in need of such beauty, when we say Tayu abroad in the street we no longer pay them heed for they are all beautiful and educated and miraculously robed, should we consign such beauty to a sight that are are so comfortable with.” Hanajima-onmyoji sat perfectly with her hands, in lace gloves, and her expression was somewhat wistful. “Does he not have robes of his own?”

“He does.” Crawford agreed. “Although they were left at the Fujimiya estate in anticipation of our return there. He suits dark reds and purples of winter more than the pinks and greens of spring.”

“See, Heika,” Hanajima said, “it is not that Crawford rejects your largesse, more that he thinks that they would be wasted upon Aya-no-Bara, when his sister has a more sweet complexion and darker hair who could wear those clothes. We are not men, heika,” she said, “and we lack a male eye for such beauty, sometimes it is necessary that we ask their opinion even if it does contradict our own.” Saki Hanajima, Tezuka thought, was very dangerous.

“I agree.” The Empress said then, “and he shall attend me at supper, Negotiator Crawford, have him dressed in his own finery, or what you can borrow at short notice, it will be nice to be surrounded by that beauty and education that so overwhelms the men of my court.” She sounded like a cat that had gotten the cream, “I am surrounded by my ladies, I forget sometimes what it is to hear a male voice.”

“By your will.” Crawford said bowing his head, but Tezuka could not help but notice how tight the fist Crawford's hand made.


	35. Chapter 35

35

Taking Aya back to Crawford’s house and then returning to the palace for his supper with the Empress seemed counter productive, so instead Ken was sent back with instructions to bring Naoe and robes fine enough to meet with her majesty. Crawford knew that Naoe, who was protective of Aya's beauty as if it was a belonging that he cherished and kept out of the reach of strangers and guests. It would give the boy an apoplectic fit if he thought that Aya might have to get into a divan to cross the city and crease his robes. So Ken returned to the Crawford house and came back with the boy, because it was just that much easier for everyone involved.

Fuji thought it was hilarious, sitting against a wall genuinely holding his side. “I wonder which one of you is the lord, Crawford, because Naoe’s word is law.”

Crawford did not look amused when he answered, around his cup of tea, “Naoe has been in my household since he was a suckling babe, perhaps I am over fond of him, but it is hard not to when you imagine that every winter might be his last, he has never been a strong boy.” Crawford looked tired which Aya found perplexing, for he knew that Crawford had slept like a babe the night before. Aya still ached from Crawford’s passion, but it was a good hurt, and one he found that he had missed, but one exacerbated by the long period in which Crawford had slept alone.

The thing which Aya shared with his master was as much spite as it was passion. Aya spoke up then, from his place beside his master, “would you not also trade the world for him, Fuji-kun?” it was a perfectly artless question, the sort of thing a silly girl might ask, and for a second Fuji was perplexed and then burst out laughing.

“My mistake, Aya," he said when he stopped, “you are right, Naoe is worth the world, and such tiny concerns are irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, but when he is grown and demands lands and a title, will you oblige him then?”

Crawford’s tone was completely bland when he said, “the Takatori lands are fair, perhaps they will best suit him.”

“Aniki," Fuji said with a closed eyed smile, “you do make me laugh. I, too, remember when Naoe was an infant, it does not seem so long ago, and now he secretly rules the world.” The eyes flashed open to show a sliver of blue, “it is good then that you did not acquiesce to his majesty when he asked you for him, he takes such pleasure in decorating our Aya-no-Bara that it is well that we did not give him all of Nihon to rule.”

Aya thought of the twin concubines of the Emperor, two boys barely older than Naoe with the cold look in their eyes that suggested that they were loved but that they had had no childhood in it's place. They were beautiful and educated and coddled, but young, and part of Aya twisted inside him when he thought about it. His hand idly found the anklet that Farfarello had clipped around his ankle, the one with the amber beads that jangled when he walked and filled the air with the lingering scent of frankincense.

He thought of Sena, who was barely four years old, running after Kimi with all the exuberance of that age, and climbing trees although he could not get back down, and felt ill to his core. Aya’s own first time had been violent and bloody and the thought of someone inflicting that on Sena made him rage. Then there was Ken, almost Aya’s own age, fourteen winters, untouched and somewhat ignorant despite the teasing of Saya and Maya.

But tellingly, the emperor’s concubines were not unhappy.

“Aya, are you well, you look like you’ve suddenly swallowed a sour pickle?” Fuji said, using a pick to lift one of the sweetmeats from the low table that sat between them. It was covered in the makings of tea and other small confections.

“Merely bitter thoughts," Aya shrugged it off. He wondered for a second what would have happened if he had been the one to catch the emperor’s eye, or Sano, because both were lovely enough. “The business this morning has given me a foul distemper, it tastes like indigestion in my throat.”

“You did a good job of it," Fuji said and then wiped at his mouth with a small square of cloth he had kept in the sash of his hakama, “although that never does make it a pleasant task, I am surprised, Crawford, that you let him do it.”

Crawford shrugged and lifted a slice of sugared peach, popping it into his mouth, “Omemie thought that our rose had no thorns, and now the court knows that he does. He would have been Daimyo, after all. If he cannot do something as simple as an execution then he would have failed his people, why should we let that be forgotten?” The sugar left a sticky sheen on his lips. “And besides, it reminded the Takatori that the Empress is no more to be underestimated than her husband, even if involving her was an accident.”

The previous summers peaches had been suspended in brandy and were now served sliced and covered with sugar, they made a pretty image on the plate. “She saved my sister.” Aya said quietly, “I am beholden to her even if she does not know it.”

Fuji snorted out a laugh, “she knows it.” He said. “She always knows. The Emperor manages the court by setting faction against faction, that way that are too busy fighting themselves to bother with him, the Empress, however, sets faction against faction simply because she can.”

“The Emperor promotes chaos to prevent the empire spiralling out of control, her highness does it because it's fun.”

“And I am to have supper with her this evening.” Aya said.

“Yes,” Fuji said, “rather you than me, but you have eaten with the Dragon, it can't be much worse than that.”

“The Dragon was a pleasant host." Aya shrugged, “he treated me like a princess of his house with every honour due that way, he was kind to Moon and Star, he was witty and charming. I would dine with him again in a heartbeat.” Crawford growled. “Oh, I am sorry, Master," Aya drawled sarcastically, "I forgot, I am only to be a Qin princess for you.”

“And yet you never were the princess for me." Crawford sounded bitter and angry.

Fuji laughed delightedly, “oh, aniki," he said at Crawford’s pained expression, “do you mean to tell me that you have not introduced our dear Aya to role play, and with his wardrobe..." he mocked rolled his eyes, “if you have no interest in that, perhaps ‘Mitsu and I.” Crawford threw his balled up napkin at Fuji, who was clearly teasing him. “I am just saying, ‘Mitsu would make a lovely shrine maiden.” This was said with his eyebrows waggling comically and Aya had to cover his mouth to laugh, the way that Hikarin taught him because courtesans did not openly laugh, it was declasse, but even Crawford laughed.

The door slid open and Saya knelt outside, in the almost year of their acquaintance Aya had learned to tell them apart although most of the household could not. Saya slightly cocked her head to the left where Maya cocked it to the right to present their perfect mirror image of each other. “Master," she said without entering, “Naoe has arrived, shall I send him in, he appears to be in something of a snit, he is complaining about notice.”

Fuji laughed again. “Naoe rules the world," he said and poured himself more tea, “the Empress is very inconsiderate if she doesn't realise this.”

“Then perhaps I should dress you for supper with her.” Naoe said appearing behind Saya with an expression that should, by all rights, curdle milk. He was dressed well enough that he himself could, at a moment's notice, sup with the Empress himself. 

“Oh heaven’s no," Fuji said, “I do not have the legs for Aya’s geta.”

“Nor the beauty." Naoe said, reaching over to lift one of the slices of peach from it’s syrup of honey, sugar and brandy, before popping it into his mouth. It was not done, for a servant, even one so beloved as Naoe to do so, it said much of how the three men considered him that not one of them raised an eyebrow at his behaviour. For all that Naoe was officially a servant he was treated like Crawford’s heir. “I might be able to apply only a few strokes of cosmetics to make Aya the most beautiful girl in all of Nihon, but I do not have the time to arrange you, it is only six hours until supper after all.”

Crawford couldn't help but laugh. “I am glad that she did not require that I also attend." He said, “for the regime that Naoe uses to maintain Aya’s skin is harsh and my own skin can’t take it.”

“That is because Aya does not need to scrape a years worth of hair off his chin twice a day." Naoe said, “your gaijin roots betray you there, Master, for left unattended your face would surely resemble a bush. People would be unable to take you seriously unless they were searching for fruit amongst the branches.” 

Crawford ran his hand over his chin, “yes, that is a burden that I must bear." He said, “but I know Aya is fond of the prickle of my stubble against the inside his thighs.”

Aya blushed as bright as his hair proving the statement true. 

"It is because we keep him so hairless." Naoe said, “the skin is more sensitive that way, but the rash that your stubble causes on his fair skin is not so welcome.” He gave Crawford a glare, “for after all he has no idea how to soothe it and then I am the one with my head between his legs.” He paused for a moment, “and considering how much maintaining such a beauteous courtesan must cost I am surprised how often it is that I am between his thighs and not you personally.”

Fuji could not restrain the laugh that erupted out of him. Naoe did not care for that for his brow furrowed. Aya looked like he might die of embarrassment. Naoe batted Aya’s thigh, “stop blushing, it will give you pimples." He chided, “and if you have a break out in front of the empress I might have to commit ritual suicide.”

“Then let us change the subject." Crawford said, with a hint of steel in his tone, “how is the contest for Ken’s affections going?”

At that Naoe offered a small and rather cruel smile. “It remains amusing," he said.

“Ken is oblivious.” Fuji said quietly. “He thinks that the three of them are befriending him and every time one of them offers him an attempt at wooing he continues on. Yohji offered to take him to Noh, but he thought that Aya wouldn't like it. Schuldig offered to take him to a tea house. He doesn't like tea. Farfarello just follows him and offers to carry things. There is talk of a few others here at court trying to join the pot.”

Aya was still trying to regain his composure. “As long as he is willing.”

“Oh they know,” Naoe said, “they know the rules and seem to find them amusing, it makes it more of a challenge. There was talk of the Emperor himself sending for him, to win the pot more than anything because I don't think he has even seen Ken, but the idea that he has to be wooed intrigues them. It makes it harder, they are used to servants assuming the position." There was no bitterness in his tone when Naoe spoke so frankly of these things, just honesty. “The pot is now nearly five ryu.” Crawford blinked. That was a lot of money, enough to maintain five retainers for a year. “Entry is a single gold dragon. And he has no idea whatsoever that they are attempting that.”

“who is?” Crawford offered.

“The Dragon, the Emperor, Lord Akechi, Lady Hanajima, but mostly I think because she thinks it's fun, she is devoted to her studies but..." he shrugged. “She has invited Ken around to help with her garden, that could be why, Hanajima-onmyoji is terrifying and very manipulative. A few of the greater guard, two negotiators and another onmyoji, Asami-onmyoji, but that’s probably because the Dragon is involved.”

“I should end this." Aya said.

“Ken has no idea?” Crawford asked.

“None,” Fuji said, “you should have seen his face when the Dragon approached him. He was in full regalia with attendants and the only thing he was lacking was a musical accompaniment, he told Ken that he was beautiful and wanted to see him stretched out across his futon. To which Ken replied.”

Naoe finished. “But I sleep with Naoe and Sena.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unless stated this story is ongoing, just very very very slowly, I get distracted easily, sorry

The Empress sat in perfect _seiza_ with two of her handmaidens beside her. Like Crawford’s twins, the handmaidens were dressed in the same colours of kimono, each contrasting the other, so where one was red trimmed in gold, the other was gold trimmed in red, but both were completely different colourings. The one to the right of the empress had large dark eyes and long black hair, where the one to her left was honey blonde with large blue eyes. The empress herself wore brilliant midnight blue worked with silver and lilac and other colours that shimmered in the candle light. She wore her hair shorter than even the field workers, shorter even than Rukia wore hers, perhaps only as much as finger width in length. It suggested that she often wore wigs and that she found this shorter length preferable.

Naoe had, as was his own want, made Aya beautiful. There had even been new tabi, because Naoe had decided that the ones he usually wore for formal occasions, and Aya couldn’t remember one of those, were looking a bit yellowed. Aya had thought them brilliant white, but it had not been enough for Naoe, you are meeting the empress, he hissed. The same socks had been perfect, however, for meeting the emperor, hush up you, Naoe had said, he’ll be picturing you without your clothes on anyway.

If the emperor’s hungry gaze had made Aya uncomfortable, he belonged to Crawford and in many ways expected Crawford to protect his virtue, but the empress’ gaze was cold. “Aya no Bara,” she said, and her voice was rich and deep, “of course you know my handmaidens, Rei and Minako.” She gestured with a slight nod of her head to first the dark girl and then the blonde.

“No, majesty,” Aya said quietly, “I have not had the pleasure. My master keeps me close so I do not know the stars of your court.” He did not raise his eyes from the tatami, which was hard and new, because there would be nothing but the very best for the empress.

“You intrigue me, Aya no Bara,” she said then, “if for no more reason than you are clearly the centre of the current storm of politics, but you do no even seem to raise your eyes. I wonder then if you are as magnificent in bed as the rumours claim, that so many powerful men are willing to kill and die in your name.”

“I belong only to my master, he is jealous of my attentions. These men who speak of my prowess are lying, for my master does not and I have lain with no other.” There was a thread of anger in his voice and she noticed it for she smiled with lips painted the colour of old blood. “My attentions and affections belong only to him.”

The empress laughed. “Even forbidden fruits get plucked, and roses, no matter how sharp their thorns, left on the branch wither and die.”

“Perhaps, majesty,” Aya said finally raising his eyes to meet her, “but are they not still beautiful whilst their petals brown, and is it not then that they smell the most sweet.”

“I could have your head for your impertinence, boy.” The Empress said in a voice like ice.

“Yes,” Aya said, “but I am Crawford’s toy, and if you took my head you would make of him an enemy who can see the future, someone who would happily take years to bring about your downfall and you would lie awake at night knowing that it was coming but never knowing when, and it would eat at you until your beauty was no more than a rose hip on a branch with thorns and never know if only that was to be his revenge.”

Minako-hime laughed and clapped her hands together delightedly. “Rukia was right,” she said with a brilliant, blinding grin on her unpainted lips, “there is a pair of balls under all that silk.”

Rei-hime flicked her companion a dark gaze and then rolled her eyes. It seemed the two were opposites in temper as well as looks. “Mina,” she chided softly, “we must remember Heika is pissed at the boy, we must not be seen to be encouraging him, you know how she gets.”

“Yes,” Minako-hime said and her tone was sweet and fond, “she can be quite unbearable.” Her smile then was a conspirator’s offering Aya an intimacy but Aya had known Hikarin and she had seemed sweet and fond until Aya lay dying. Women used fond and sweet until they got what they wanted, Rukia did it, why shouldn’t Minako-hime.”I am my master’s servant, what people do in my name is not of my choosing.” Aya’s tone was careful, though inside he was seething. He wanted very little more than to take one of the knives from the table in front of him and to stab her. This woman was keeping his sister from him, because she could.

“Then it is not because you are a scion of the House of Sleep.”

Aya snorted. “Milady, you are mistaken, I cannot help you.”

The empress slammed her tea cup down hard on the table. “You will do as I wish, and you dare to presume what it is that I want.”

“It is not that I presume what you want.” Aya said calmly, “it is that I know you cannot offer her anything in exchange. That is how I dare, milady, you have heard of the House of Sleep, you have heard of it’s miracles.” He did his best to keep his tone even, “but most of those are lies, I have been to the House of Sleep, and I know some of it’s mysteries, but I think you need to understand that she is a priestess with the magic of the god of death. In exchange for those miracles she takes pain and she engraves it upon her person, so she wears the pain and grief of others, and the miracle she offers is that she takes it, that it becomes hers, and when she has run out of skin then they will engrave it on her eyes, and take her down into the earth where she will be bound in sleep, like all the other priestesses before her, and because of her sacrifice, because of her pain, Izanami keeps the doors to the Underworld open for those who die. That is her miracle, milady, if you were sick then she might be able to take your sickness. If you were grieving then she could take your grief. There are three such temples, the House of Light, the House of Sleep and the House of Noise and thunder. Can neither of those offer what it is you wish?”

The empress threw her tea cup but Aya did not flinch, even when the tea splattered against his chest.

“He is either very brave, or very stupid.” Rei-hime said.

“I am inclined to stupid." Minako-hime chimed to her left.

“My master said that I am not bright, that the gods were kind only to my form.” Aya answered calmly.

“Crawford-onmyoji is certainly clever enough for both of you.” The Empress said, leaning back against the arms of her chair. It was merely arms and a back, that she might sit on her pillow and rule. “But it is not like him to dally with trinkets or to be distracted by something as simple as beauty.”

“Though I may presume to speak for Rao-sama, as my kinswoman, I dare not presume to speak such for my master, for he is not as kind as she who speaks for the Lady of Death." He kept his posture still, like a matsuri doll, like the dolls left behind in the Fujimiya house. In his head he repeated over and over a mantra of still, silent, like a matsuri doll, still, silent, like a matsuri doll.

“And if I asked her for beauty?” The Empress asked.

“Milady is very beautiful.” Aya answered calmly, “why would she wish for more when she is already thus blessed?”

“And if I asked her for power?” The empress asked.

“Milady is the empress,” he said, “why would you want more?” That question at least was genuine.

“You have met my husband, you have met his doxies, you are aware of his predilections.” It was not a question. “How am I to compare with the beauty of a young boy?”

“By giving him a son." Aya answered, “for such is your second duty, your first must be to serve as a bridge between your husband and your people, the second must be to provide him with an heir, both of which you fulfil admirably, what does it matter if your husband lies with boys, they do not threaten your son. Do you not also have lovers with which you cannot have children?” He sounded genuine but truly he was fishing for information, Crawford had told him to bring back everything he learned, and he intended to, but first he had to learn something. The way both Rei-hime and Minako-hime blushed Aya knew that was true. “It is not forbidden, is that what you wish for my lady, Rao? For she is lovely also, and in a life engraved upon her in pain a little kindness would be a great gift.” He was trying to keep his voice even, behaving like he was his mother, like he was Hikarin.

Yet the empress had seen through him once, it was likely that she would again.

When Omemie had asked for Aya to kill her it was the empress who had known that he both could and would.

“Are you just a trinket, Aya no Bara, or are you a stone on this board?”

“I play go with my master because it amuses him.” He answered, tilting his head like he had seen the courtesans do, the way that Hikarin had when she had played the men in Crawford’s court, the way she had when she had played at being stupid. “He always beats me.” That didn’t need to be a lie. Crawford did always win.

“There are very few men alive who could beat Crawford at go," Minako-hime said quietly, “he has a very unfair advantage.” Rei-hime laughed.

“Did he tell you your future, my lady?” he asked tilting his head in that feline manner, the soft gesture of it, before he licked at the rouge on his lips. “For he will not tell me mine.”

“I am told,” Rei-hime said with a lilt in her voice, “that there is no joy in a world that holds no surprises and only sorrow in it’s wake. but there are many things which hold no surprise, we know that come spring that the cherry blossoms will come, and winter will bring the snow, we know that when a woman lies with a man her belly might quicken with child, and thus she is given value in his eyes past when her beauty is faded. We know that that which is written will outlive us all, and the emperor loses patience in the beauty of his concubines long before it has faded and they rise into the wisdom of men.”

“You assume men have wisdom.” Minako-hime said and poured sake into her cup with a delicate flash of white forearm. It was an elegant and almost unconscious gesture of sexuality. “and they are worth more than their seed.”

“Perhaps,” The empress said with an arched brow, holding out a sake bowl for Minako-hime to fill it, “they can see the future.”


	37. Chapter 37

WB37

Saki Hanajima-onmyoji scared Aya. It was not the constant presence of her guard, Uotani, a woman taller even than he was, with her hair roughly caught up at her neck, but the very aura the onmyoji seemed to give off. She was small, standing barely as tall as Aya’s shoulder, with her hair a long black shadow behind her like the glossy wing of a raven over her black kimono. She wore solid black and when Aya had asked Crawford why he had simply answered “because she wants to.”

Onmyoji were given whatever allowances they wanted, and Hanajima was no exception. Strangely she wore a fine black veil over her hair that came down over her eyes but it clearly did not restrict her view of anything.

They were walking through the formal gardens of the Onmyoji palace, listening to the thwock splash of the deer catchers, and the burbling water over the rocks. It was a fine day but Aya was still unsettled following his meeting with the empress the night before.

Hanajima had insisted that he call her Hana-chan and looped her arm through his in a manner most inappropriate, but there was nothing sexual about the gesture and they had conversed several times before. She was one of the contenders for Ken’s pot, although Aya knew she was doing it more for the amusement than any desire for him. There was also  the possibility that she was doing it so he would continue work on her garden. Hanajima was not an easy woman to predict.

“So, how was your meeting with our empress?” she asked as they passed under the sakura tree, it was budding and the leaves just starting to open but soon it would be a curtain of petals. It was a reminder to Aya of how much time was passing that it was already spring. Aya thought for a long moment, choosing his words carefully but Hanajima just continued in that calm quiet way of hers. “That well,” she covered her laugh with her sleeve, she wore them long enoug that they fell over her hands. “She is…”

“Empress.” Aya offered.

“I was thinking more a force of nature. Was your master able to divine what she wanted? I ask because the next time that she and the emperor have a huge fall out it is on me to discern the technique best used for the negotiator to work a peace between them.” There was nothing crass in the way she spoke, more a calm resignation and a hint of faint amusement.

“What she wanted I could not give her,” Aya answered, “what she wanted was impossible.”

Hanajima tilted her head as she considered it, “I doubt your master has told you to hold your tongue with me, I was under the impression that he enjoyed that you had friends among the nobility as long as you remembered your place.” Aya’s fingers hurt in phantom pain, he knew his place well. Sometimes he even enjoyed it. It was easy to enjoy it when his master told him to. The ropes made it easy to hold the pleasure in, but Hanajima was right, Crawford did want him to foster friendships, but always with the knowledge that he belonged to Crawford and that any information that might aid Crawford was to be shared.

“You know, of course, of my lineage.” Aya said.

“That you are descended from Izanami of the House of Windowless rooms.” Hanajima said, “I doubt there is a single noble in all of the court that does not know of it, and hasn’t worked out a hundred ways to use it to their own advantage.”

“Then you know of the house of sleep.” Aya said quietly.

“I know many things,” she said raising her head under her veil. She wore a crown of silver, fixed into her hair with silver kanzashi, it made her look ethereal, like an oni trailed by a bandit. “But that does not mean I understand what others think, for they are their own person and their thoughts are their own.”

Aya nodded. “She wanted the Horimono-hime to preserve her beauty I think.” He told her.

“Have you considered instead that she wished the test of fidelity?” Aya stopped in his tracks and looked at her. “Surely you are aware of it, the Horimono-hime is said to perform three miracles, she can take the suffering of the living, she will take babes no one else will take, and she will test the veracity of love.”

“But she knows her husband does not love her, what would she have to gain?” Crawford had thought that she desired beauty and with it power in the court, it had made sense to Aya at the time, sprawled out beside his master drunk on lust and recently spent.

“Perhaps for that we need to consider the test, you must, of course, correct me if I am wrong, but she gives a golden bead, that bead is then given to your lover, if you trust your lover, of course. That is the test, you are told that the bead is poison to the unfaithful, so if you give it to a lover who is untrue they will die, so to even give the bead to your lover you must trust them completely, this is the test. How much do you trust the person you love?”

“Of course you can tell your lover,” Aya said, “and then they can decide whether or not they can take the poison.”

Hanajima tilted her head. “Assuming of course that it is poison,” she said softly, “most so called miracles are simply sleight of hand. Now imagine the empress travels to visit the House of Sleep and requests the test of fidelity, of course she would do publically. She then brings it to her husband, presenting it to him in front of the court, what must he do.”

“Take the poison.” Aya said realising it calmly, “and do so in front of the court, the fault falling on him because the test is well known.”

“And to think, Kuchiki called you a pretty trinket with no more between his ears than air.” Hanajima said. “So what did you tell her?”

“That my kinswoman wouldn’t help her.”

Hanajima made a noise that suggested that this might have been the right course of action. “And that might be why Crawford could not see her future, you had already ended the plan, which is for the best as it would have seen the emperor dead, your family killed for supplying the poison, even if the empress herself was blameless, and almost certainly the slaughter of the Onmyoji would have caused civil war.”

“I had not thought them so important.”

“Oh, we’re not.” Hanajima said, “but not everyone is educated and aware that the vast majority of magic is bullshit.” She moved to sit on one of the rocks that lined her path, spreading her shawl over the stone before she finally sat down, “but those of us who can access the stronger paths, say precognition for example,” she knew he was talking about Crawford, “keep in check those who do, imagine someone with no ability taking the role in court that Crawford does.” Aya felt the colour drain from his face. “I had not thought that you could get more pale,” Hanajima said with a hint of delight in her voice, “those of us who are kept from the sun should always be friends,” she said, “if only because we know the best things to soothe the inevitable burn of it. Why soon I shall move only under parasols and shawls if I leave the palace at all.”

“The bruised leaves of Gennoshouko.” Aya murmured almost absently, “lay them on the skin and leave for a few hours, it takes the burn right out of it, or beeswax, ground up and mixed with chicken fat, rubbed direclyt into the skin if you can bear it.”

“See,” she said offering him a smile under her veil, “we shall be fast friends, bound together by sunburn, although I wonder if the beeswax would not work better if it was ground in with lavender oil, after all it has such a soothing feel on the skin when blended with chicken fat.” She patted the rock beside her, “come sit, I am sure there are other secrets we can share, like how do you keep your hands so soft? if I cannot steal away Nagi-kun I must torture you for his secrets instead.”

\---

Crawford insisted that Aya shared his meals with him, and so over a trout roasted with the last of the winter vegetables, with spring onions and a wakame broth,  he asked his concubine about how he had spent the morning with Hanajima. Aya knew his place so told him everything, but the vast majority of the conversation he knew would mean nothing to his master unless he suddenly found an interest in which pigments made the best lacquer for nails, or if applying grease to the feet before bed worked better with or without tabi.

He took her suggestion of the empress’ plan with a certain equanimity. “Have we considered the third option?” he asked, “that she intends to deliver an unwanted child to the House of Sleep.”

“I was of the impression that all of her lovers were women.” Aya told him calmly, “she surrounds herself with such beauty I would be surprised if she did not dwell amongst it.”

Crawford chuckled to himself, “when first we met, my Aya-no-bara, such a thought would have scandalised you, and now you mention it with such calm it is almost as if you are one of us.”

“It is true,” Aya drawled, “I have walked in on Saya and Maya too many times to retain any such innocence.” He said, “between them and Fuji very little surprises me anymore.”

“I was told you were surprised in a certain store,” Crawford said with a smile over his cup of sake, “that the flute carved like a phallus gave you something of a flush.”

“It was not the flute,” Aya said stiffly, embarrassed now he thought of it, “it was the ocarina.”

Crawford burst out laughing, which surprised Aya, everything in the capital was so serious and Crawford was not given to laughter, so to see it now caught him unawares. Aya felt a burst of something unique in his stomach, Crawford looked so different laughing, with his head thrown back and there was a darkening of blood at his throat, almost as if he was aroused, and that aroused Aya who had not expecting it.

Aya’s sexual awakening seemed linked entirely to Crawford, and he was not sure that he cared for it. “Please tell me that Fuji bought it, I cannot imagine what organ might make an ocarina.”

Aya blushed clear to the roots of his red hair. “It was certainly something to be seen, nor was it human, apparently the phallus of a tanuki is appropriately short and fat when knotted in preparation for mating.”

Crawford laughed again, but this time it was a bassy dirty sounding laugh, “you have no idea how beautiful you are when you blush.” He said in a low voice. “I almost wish to push aside this food and fuck you on the table.”

Aya stood up and sloughed off his robes so that he stood naked but for his tabi in front of his master, “tell me how you want me.” He said, uncaring of the door open to the courtyard, “I have long since started to carry oil about my person for one never knows when hunger might strike.”

“Most simply carry nigiri.” Crawford answered but didn’t move as Aya crouched down to pick up the vial, and then he lifted the obi-age, wrapping it around his wrist.

“How do you want me? I live to serve at your pleasure.” He ran his fingers, unencumbered by the silk of his obi-age, twisted around his wrist so it fell down his arm against his chest, the length of his throat. He was wearing a pendant from a single ear and it fell against the skin most pleasingly.

“Leave the oil on the table,” Crawford said, his voice did not sound in the least bit broken by the sight before him, the image of the Aya-no-Bara serving his master, one of which many of the court would have paid a ransom for. “Touch yourself,” Aya’s hand moved towards his cock, “no,” Crawford said, “your chest, your nipples.”

Crawford liked to watch, so Aya performed. All of those who had found their place in Crawford’s futon had, at some point or another, performed for him.

“No,” Crawford said as Aya’s fingers whorled in circles over his pectoral muscles, scraping the skin with his nails to form a light, but delicious pain. “Something is not quite right.” He made a moue of discontent and narrowed his eyes. “I know what it is. Come across to me.”

Aya took the two steps around the table to him, leaving his robes on the tatami. The slave bangle on his ankle jingle jangled as he walked, dropping into low seiza in front of his master.

From his wrist Crawford untwisted the obi-age and obi-jime. “Put your hands behind your back, my Aya-no-Bara.” Aya bent his forehead down to press against Crawford’s thigh, with his wrists pressed together at the small of his back. Crawford quickly looped the cord around his wrists tying them together in a loose bondage. Then with his finger tips he lifted Aya’s face and used the white silk obi-age to blindfold him. “Beautiful,” he said softly, running his fingertips the length of Aya’s cheek, then down over his mouth.

Aya heard a rustling, then he was turned, his head placed upon a pillow that had been put on the low table. The position arched his back and raised his ass up to Crawford’s gaze. Crawford used his hands to part Aya’s legs revealing the cleft of his ass, then something hot and wet poured down over his taint, followed by something else he had never felt before, and with Crawford’s hands parting his ass cheeks, and the soft scratching of his stubble at the soft skin there, Aya realised what was happening, leaning back into the soft touch with a groan at how good it felt. Crawford was pouring sake over his hole and then licking it clean. Aya had not known such a thing was possible, and he was glad that Crawford had bound his hands because otherwise he would have gripped his head with both hands and held him there for eternity.

It didn’t take long, there was the divine touch of Crawford’s tongue, then the press of his fingers, slick with oil, then he was pulled unto Crawford’s cock, and he could feel the fabric of Crawford’s hakama under his skin. Crawford liked to be dressed when he fucked Aya, he liked the feeling of power it gave him.

Yet he was balls deep in his concubine and rocking them to mutual satisfaction when the door slid open and Nagi said, “sorry to disturb you at supper,” he made no comment upon the image he must have seen, he did not even sound embarrassed. “But I thought you’d want to know, Shuichi Takatori is dead. He was cut down in his lands by bandits.”

“And Mamoru?” Crawford asked over Aya’s shoulder, sounding not at all nonplussed even as he continued to fuck up into the naked boy in his lap.

“With his grandfather.” Nagi said, “I’ll leave you to it, I’ll make sure a bath is prepared for you when you’re done.”  And slid the door closed behind him.

 


End file.
